Poem: Moondust

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Apollo XI

20 July 4:18 pm EDT

 

The Eagle has landed.”

How many people

must have waved and

waved toward the sky

as though the astronauts could see us

from way up there?

Like my family, who all believed

you must shout

to make yourself heard

on a long distance telephone call,

so indicative

of prevailing logic,

pre-giant leap logic,

when far away was absolute

not relative.

Magnificent desolation.”

Gray rocks, gray sand and craters

No water, no trees, no people,

no moon men.

We were slightly disappointed

until the the mission of ’71:

 

Apollo XIV

31 January 1971

 

It went better than last time

and everybody

was relieved.

Mr. Cobb the janitor

sweeping mysterious yellow powder

from the front stoop of our building

the next day

told us,

It’s moondust”

and we were inclined

to believe him.

You never know,

two men playing golf on the moon

might kick up

a lot of dust

sending it our way,

so that it landed

right

on our stoop.

Our mom called us inside

and we forgot

to sneak a pinch

of Mr. Cobb’s moondust;

an omission

I regret to this day.

 

Atlantis at 25

8 July, 2011-21 July, 2011

 

Standing in the sea, I watch

the shuttle, Atlantis

break from her bonds one final time,

female Prometheus unleashed

she rises and rises away

from the earth,

a titan tossed diamond spark

hurtling across the sky.

She cradles four souls,

in her belly.

I know how this feels;

let them be safe.

In silence we watch,

all of us beachgoers,

and I am not

the only one

who waves

at the sky.

This poem was originally published at Fictionique.com

Image from Google

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