The Death Machine

The plane had lost power in all three engines Dropped from thirty-four thousand feet to twelve thousand feet Something like four miles When the steep glide began People rose, fell, collided, swam in their seats Then the serious screaming and moaning began Almost immediately a voice from the flight deck was heard on the intercom We're falling out of the sky, we're going down. This outburst struck the passengers as an all but total breakdown of authority Competence and command of presence brought on a round of fresh and desperate wailing. In less than three minutes we will touch down, so to speak They will find our bodies in some smoking field Strewing about in the grizzly attitudes of death