Have you seen this headline? Jet plane crash
in iced Potomac River. Hundreds dead
on impact. Six left clung to tail, jutted
diagonal above the water. Last
night I dreamt this flight was mine. My hips
sunk numb in rapid slush. My lips making
slow words with other passengers waiting
for rescue. Only five survived. The sixth
grabbed the dropping rope five times, raised it to
another, drowned before his turn could come.
My love, if I must drown before we've loved,
must look into a stranger's face and choose,
remember this, the stare you never knew—
I bury me as though I'm lifting you.