Mayday

The pilot has been remiss,
no distress call has gone out
but the passengers are restive,
bickering.

“Ditch, I tell you,
into the channel
we cannot land…
over there.”

“We can, we must,
let me past...”

“Sit down, my friend”.

The pilot is long silent,
locked down in the cockpit,
the cabin crew look nervous,
shuddering,

“Sir, please sit down,
remain in your seat,
you mustn’t move
until after...”

“Remain? I won’t,
let me past...”

"Oh no, my friend..."

The pilot flies slow, steady,
purposeful in folly,
over the cliff into the water,
destiny.