Time shifts as you catch
the night’s blackness too soon.
Programmed passengers fall into sleep
as the cabin lights dim and the crew retreat
to whisper behind galley curtains.
But you keep the window blind open
and stare into the darkness.

It comes as a hint, a movement
in the night that blocks out the stars.
You sense the scrape as the 747’s wing
brushes against it, no more
than a vibration through the aircraft body.
You feel through your fingertips,
at rest on the edge of the window.

From beyond the curtains
a baby cries. Did its body feel the tremor
through its cot against the bulkhead?
A crew member slips through the cabin,
a routine patrol. You close your eyes
not daring to look into hers
as she leans across you to pull down the blind.