Sky spear

by Sigma

sharp angles

cut the sky 

a loud whine and rumble

the acrid smell of gasoline

clouds the clear air

I used to stroke your 

artificial skin

like a prize horse.

it felt like sharkskin

tiny teeth grazing 

my whole palm

running over lip

of the intake

feeling the

bumps on the tips

of my fingers.

Wondering if this truly

felt like power.

Imagining myself 

as the wind 

sliced through 

over and over again

being pulled through 

the blades 

compressed

set ablaze

and projected

Your sleek design

fast, projecting power,

kept together by 

application 

of physics.

a knowledge for keeping

16 tons

from collapsing

under 7 times

the force of gravity,

a mile high in the sky,

often during dogfights.

Many have said 

“What’s more miraculous than that?!”

some people crave

the language of you

whether they care to

admit it or not

this is the price of possessing

power in perpetuity

A price many are willing to pay.

I would be lying 

if said I never fantasized

taking you for a midnight joy ride.

but

I’d never be qualified.

These days I know better.

you were built to instill fear.

to dogfight 

to be one of many

of a cavalcade

spilling out fire from on high.

Scraping against 

the skies

I know your riders

and

their privileged eyes.

You were designed 

manufactured

built

reshaped

indexed

and paid for 

for one purpose disguised as many.

seeing you in the skies

many know

know what sign

your cries signify,

man made nightmares destabilizing 

their entire life.

The only image I have of you now

is bystanding on the side

of the catapult

afterburners on

launch in five. four. three…

the steam from 

catching wires

mystifying the angles

of you as some

daunting shadow

of fear intensified.

A spear of the skies.