On how long-term weightlessness affects living creatures Poem by Tua Birgitta Forsström

The dogs in Your movies remind me
of Laika. Did You, too, once stand
on a mountain and watch the little light travel
across the night sky? Had the dog had
a view, it would have seen the shining blue
sphere with oceans and clouds. On the ground,
Laika's breathing was monitored. The satellite
plunged into the atmosphere and Laika fell,
is falling in the draught through black mirrors,
does not have to be space sick anymore, is spared
having to eat at the chime of the bell. Laika is no longer
travelling in a hermetically sealed cabin,
chained to instruments showing how
long-term weightlessness has affected living
creatures. Laika travels through the dark
pure of heart, with all strays.
Laika's memory was honoured
with a new brand of cigarettes in the Soviet Union.
The first dog in space
did not come back, comes
back as dust and rain.

Translated by Maria Freij