19 February 2009

Low Earth Orbit

A slow ascent above the sky
At 280 miles a minute.
The continents and seas trail back
In hypersonic grace.
The push of icy wet oxygen
Thrusting us just above the clouds

If we’re lucky.

The rocket’s empty lungs fall away
Heaving us up to the edge
Of gravity’s confining grip.
Not quite to the cosmos,
But not quite earthmen anymore.
Lucky to be so insignificant.

Just a scrap of steerable debris.


I made some revisions to an earlier piece.

6 comments:

  1. I really like this. The imagery and your choice of words made the poem very interesting to read. (ex., hypersonic grace & heaving us up) I also like:
    Not quite to the cosmos,
    But not quite earthmen anymore.
    Lucky to be so insignificant
    Great re-write!

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  2. the flight...ah every pilot's thrill!
    Enjoy the rally!

    http://lynnaima.wordpress.com/

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  3. Thanks. I used to want to be an astronaut.

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  4. wanting to fly is cool,
    lovely emotions.
    Thanks for sharing.

    A++

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