With the Lord’s words
announced in her ears
Between the Rat Pack’s
sonatas
Cooing in the background
of the lounge.
It was a stand-by flight
from purgatory.
She could not afford the
chance from Reno
Yet waited as if she could,
With miniature statuettes
Of Jack and Jim and
Captain Morgan.
Incorrigible nerves pulsing
her jugular
Pumping her pores of fluid
and salt.
Hiding his eyes across the
aisle—a man!
Aviators, a disguise, kept
from her
But reassured she thought,
“Under my thumb.”
