Contraptions and Creation

Trajectories fly high then dive to sigh our lives
and raise vortices beyond demise. Machines,
bird's-eye worlds, shudder hope alive, drive
despair out of sight. Until views of under-wings
usher whiskered whispers and spray water
meant to satisfy want, yet leave mouths dry.
All these men strapped to apparatus, fail
to understand basic thirsts and poke cavities
blown arid in waves of air. They try to mirror
egos, soon turned to dust. Bravo. Fear ends in
deep draughts of women's eyes. Their sight
attuned to sweeping heights and birth-blood
depths. Creation outstrips egos, now and then.