The Astronaut's Dream
It wasn't the space shuttle that blinked,
it was the astronaut inside it.
He's on the observation deck,
before returning to the mess hall
they're opening up the frozen dessert,
happy with the readings.
'If it falls, it falls', he says.
But only when he blinks
and shuts out the entire Earth
can he imagine where.
In the white forests of Ukraine?
There is a man collecting sap
carefully from a silver birch,
bark peeling off like aluminium foil
to be distilled into alcohol.
A strange, loud noise,
and he's hunting the hinterland,
platinum, and alloyed metals worth as much as diamond,
tops of the trees shredded.
'Accumulating windows, ' says the astronaut.
he considers options and angles.
There are geometric pathways
they balance like trained dolphins through these hoops.
The sea slopes, perhaps?
They could withstand a crash.
Pieces of the wings
caught up in the coral.
A mermaid surfacing and saying,
'They went against the odds.'
He blinks again,
And considers his pretty embassy,
'An envoy of the best and brightest fools? '
He checks the oxygen again,
he checks the fuel.
Comments about this poem (The Astronaut's Dream by Eli Spivakovsky )
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