We’re in the tissue
of the atmosphere
stretched over
the below world.
In the distance
a lone ochre
cloud
drifts into a
solid.
Una says, ‘it’s a
dragon.'
Uninhabitable
the earth spreads
thinner and
thinner
moving away from us.
We circle the
runway
curious, hopeful.
We’re all
wondering the same thing.
In the terminal,
they are watching
the sky.
Waiting.
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