Saturday, 6 April 2013

6. Space breakdown

Breaking down in space is not like
breaking down on the motorway
where the other cars continue to hurtle.

It is much, much slower.

We judder like a girl trying to tamp
down giggles in math class, we sink
like a cushion tossed in a lake.

The dials are flashing and sputtering
like neon peonies, the dashboard is Vegas,
but my pockets are all out of chips.

The spacecraft is rolling down a hill
with its arms hugging its shoulders,
daisies tearing into the sky like a shaken snowglobe,
grass stain elbows,
can this really be the endless black out there?
It looks so very, very green.

Soon we will careen into the big rock
and shatter it to shards, to the farthest end
of the cosmic pool table.

I hope the pieces get snagged
upon far off galaxy brambles.

I hope they light up lifetimes from now
as new constellations to bet on,

new horoscopes
for a distant world
date night and destiny.

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