‘Pilot’ (Poem)

air_france_boeing_777-228er_f-gspe_kustov_planform
A pilot called consciousness,
no vetting, no training,
thrust behind the joystick,
told to fly through darkness,
distracted in a jet branded existence,
a flashing toy in a black
windowless room,
blinking lights,
tails of smoke
fading
into
a dark blue gloom.