by Mary Brunini McArdle
Tighten your grip on the steerage,
And power the boosters for braking;
Ahead a roiling tunnel spirals back
Amidst a group of geometric buildings,
Strange buildings of unearthly origin.
The ship’s nearly out of control.
Wind buffets metal, disbands clouds:
Behind them lurks a storm.
Is this a portal to some other place?
Will lightning loose the lock
And thunder pummel open the door?
Copyright © 2009 by
Mary Brunini McArdle