Sunday, March 25, 2012

The Death of an Astronaut

It is a dark, cold night
And from here I can see the stars
flapping their wings like vultures
looking for meat
I am here on the bed
The sheets are white
or yellow
I don't know
Much like my uncanny ability
to confuse the simplest of things.

I imagine before i go to sleep
that you would lie next to me
And that i would listen to the warmth of your hands
Like songs of ancient summer nights singing through the ages.
That our pulses would sing rock songs
Each out of tune but never missing a beat.

And you would whisper to my ear
softly like a mouse
Because you don't want my mother to know
And my eardrums would beat
Because of it
almost like a hum
Almost like a heartbeat
My ears are excited
but i contained the sounds
because i don't want my mother to know.

And yet the stars would see
that it was just me
Alone in my bed without anyone beside me.

But i wasn't on my bed.
We were off! Like a space shuttle hurtling into infinity and beyond.
We were off!
Oh it was fun! It was magical!
We opened the windows of the shuttle
And used fish nets to catch some stars
And store them in small, glass jars
so one day we will not lose our way.

The 7th star to your right
and straight on until the next night.
Underneath a young apple tree
I will clump the stars together
It will become big enough for both of us.

Then we would be on our own star
Of which i made for you,
jettisoned like astronauts
fumbling around for air
in a vacuum of space devoid of air
Just as the astronaut will die
We will die too.

1 comment:

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