Hatchet

=Found Poem=

=The Lost Flight=

Memory was like a knife cutting into him.

The hot hate slices, so exact.

Brian stared out the window of the plane at endless green northern wilderness. It kept coming back. he had nothing.

The drone and sea of green trees that lay before the plane's nose, flowed to the horizon, spread with lakes, swamps, wandering streams and rivers.

Sitting in a bush plane roaring 7000 feet above the wilderness with a pilot who suffered a heart attack, who was either dead or in a coma.

He turned back in his seat, facing the front, put his hands-still trembling-on the control wheel. He had to fly it somehow.

Going to die, his whole brain screamed in sudden silence.

Saw nothing but sensed blue, cold blue-green.

Everything was green, so green it went into him. He was alive.

But all in a haze, a haze-world.

By: Dryden. Ernie, Alex and Eli.