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#Tailspin

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Watching Saturday morning cartoons,
one of the great joys of my childhood.
The name escapes me, Disney, Baloo,
he was a pilot flying a plane of wood?

Cereal dribbling down my chin, a burst
of saccharine colored O's as I laugh
wholeheartedly, the villains do their worst.
Cool Baloo, never bothered by half.

CRT buzz fills the void of a blank screen.
The show fades out, commercials fade in.
Remembering it now is like lurking in a dream
that's a rerun of Tailspin.

Wild flight manoeuvres,
a sky full of fire,
crash.
Her great love: Paul.

I found the hour
of the fighter plane shootings
on the internet.
Mother was long dead then.
And also non-Paul: my father -
his lifetime
compared to the missing
and found wanting.
And yet both men had been aggressors
in their time.

How could the lived
nightmares of Paul
find their way
into my subconscious,
the fear of flying
into my life,
which seems
like a constant downward
#tailspin?

It didn’t take much to send him into a literal tailspin. A loud noise, the wrong food, waking early. She kept her distance when that growl started low in his throat.

Boyfriends didn't last the chaos. Except Tom. But she could read the signs.

Intervention came on a Saturday morning. Tom arrived with muffins, coffee and a pamphlet. ‘I love you, Jen. But things can’t go on like this. I’ve enrolled you, me and Tailspin in Doggie Rehab.’

#SmallStories
#Mastoprompt #Tailspin
@tanweerdar

Debris stifled a sigh. She had enough to deal with without a dragon in a #tailspin.

"It's not the worst thing in the world, Alex". She put a plate of ham and eggs in front of him. "I know it feels like it is."

He looked up through curly red hair, his utterly human face devastated. "But I can't shift AT ALL. I'm stuck being a BOY".

Debris smiled gently. "Haven't you seen the way the rest of us do it? I have a dress that should fit. I'll help you with your makeup".

By pride, does fate’s subtle mask truth belie,
hid ‘neath comely, wax plumage righteous flaw.
For man’s conceited gaze toward envied sky,
and hubris us, toward fiery fall, will draw;
As Daedalus’ poor son was deemed to die,
cast forth from heavens to Earth’s hungry maw.
So too shall we, on failing wings, lament
Our wretched ego in tailspin descent.

#MastoPrompt #SmallPoems #TailSpin #OttavaRima #Poem #Poetry #Writing #ego

(Painting: "The Flight of Icarus" by Jacob Peter Gowy c. 1636)