in the air
in the air
the winds rushing by in the chatter and clatter of the blades
while leaning out the open door pretending to have no fears
watch a canopy of jungle trees passing by in bold brief blinks
dipping and weaving as pilot owns the stick lives in his hand
as the gunners hang onto their guns fingers ready safeties off
a chance cannot forgive though an accident can be explained
suddenly the river appears brown slow sluggish and too wide
the rotor wash forces up the spray a sampan’s deck swept off
coolie leaf hats clutched fear hate in worried eyes dark frowns
as vegetables flowers fish pork are soaked and flattened down
are there weapons hidden or is there only the innocence lost
while exchanging distrust machine guns rest barrels point up
hovering high seeking altitude but then diving to the surface
in a manner of high hunter hawks in search of a quiet quarry