To Fall in Love on an Airplane / by Lily Greenberg

White-knuckled arm rests
because you lose what you don't hold.
Boarding passengers flood,

faceless, uninhibited,
anointing me in our shared space.

He buckles to my left.
We exchange stoicism, though our
reading materials mingle. 

As the craft begins to tip,
we gaze over oxygen-masks
and understand:
what slips through the fingers
is not loss, but water—
you lose what you unapologetically suffocate.