This is not an Alibi, It's a Lullaby

On trans-Atlantic flight
Over international waters
She had shut the door on the bathroom
A clever velvet room of smoke
Where ankle-biting youngsters
Did the rowing
While the distraught mother
Looked for corpses in the water
She returned to her play-child seat
Everything smaller than normal
The small and efficient meal
The combined fork and spoon
The child's chair we're all crammed into
Taking the shape of giants in the air
Turning to me
She explains she could not provide her real name to the airline
And is registered under her mother's name
Tapping her wrist
And checking her watch
She asks the stewardess for water
"Times like these" she says
She makes the stewardess promise water
And she is someone's mother
Someone's sister
Someone's soulmate
She is her mother's daughter
And her ticket says so