Set to Rights
by Sherry Rind
The Skyhawk slipped through a hole in the firmament,
diving sharply before straightening its shoulders
and bouncing down the rutted road to a banana field
where it stopped, nosing the green fruit
as if ready to browse.
In a silence like listening
the four aboard sat for one full minute
unable to account for their lives.
The pilot thought
he might become a painter
and his wife thought the recurring dream of swimming
through leaves thrown open like arms
while the boy and girl in back
jumbled through broken bananas,
bruised knees, and bragging rights at school
and life resumed its going out and its coming in
and the oxen assumed their polished yokes and red embroidery
to pace the day’s circles, wringing cane stalks dry.