Page 363
By Jack Joseph Smith
Flight
One second before God,
he vanished from it all
Wild for what nature
had left
Quiet on every kind of train
Sullenron a bus, alone,
the low thumb road
Old dirt and ash,
on the way, kids awash
And blessid are the women,
born better than I
Suddenly another shore
Then again a cast away
To the seas magie of horror,
and glamorous misunderstanding .