Tension
Lisa Otter
Tension was the seventh passenger
on the six-seater plane.
There she was with her hands on her hips,
standing ready to board.
Her threadlike lips pursed into a thin callous smile.
All the while she stood there,
she tossed her thick ominous hair behind her shoulders,
and took a deep dark drag off her cigarette.
Nobody invited her.
Nobody wanted her there.
Yet, she forced herself onto the Skyhawk.
An unwanted party guest,
she sat haughtily in her seat,
ready for take-off with her belt fastened securely and
her legs crossed seductively.
Positively beaming...
Pressing herself on us like a humid night in
6 comments:
wow, great poem, lisa.
Very cleverly put. I can see that Tension. Feel it. Shivers!
Yes, she has traveled with us a time or two... even visited the house...
Wonderful
Nice poem, Lisa! Clever, indeed. I think Ms. Tension was on my most recent flight to AZ. Sitting right over there with Nausea. :-)
(Oh, that's what those bags are for!)
I've enjoyed your last few posts. Especially the vulnerability about your feelings around your son's writing success. I like that kind of honesty. How could he not be a writer with a mom like you? :)
Good luck with your publishing endeavors!
I like this poem. Although it brings back yucky memories of flying on a small plane - ugh.
Cool!
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