The Wings Of No Poem by Vevna Forrow

I offer a new page whip.
I offer this chapter flip.
No — is the busted takeoff trip.
Back home in Minnesota
is a solo wing rollercoaster dip.
On glass thin ice I slip;
landing on a fizzling hip.
I offboard into the snowflakes
with a heart drip.
I taxi tip.
I anchor up one tethered blank sip.
I still see that co-pilot ticket rip.
Sunken into an arctic bar seat — on land I'm struck by
an iceberg tip.
Nahin — is the final texted ship.
I sink with the tweet message — table grip.
I onboard a memory clip.
I slip.
I drip.
I taste tears nesting on my lip.
I take another sip.