
There has been space travel my whole life. Yet, still, it makes me cry.
I wrote this poem after having watched both flights, within a week of each other–those of Virgin Atlantic’s Richard Branson and of Amazon’s Jeff Bezos. This was an attempt to compare the two, and contemplate the future of paid space flight.
Vocabulary: The Kármán line is where the Earth’s atmosphere meets space, about 100km up. “Nominal” means everything is functioning as it should. MICO means “main engine cut-off.” And zero grav is zero gravity, when passengers can unhook their belts and float around in the cabin.
Hope you enjoy the ride!
Beyond
The Kármán Line,
We rocket up.
A famous face,
Or two, make history
(at least, the briefest stay
On Guinness.)
Pink ignites the sky,
A flame propels
A rigid rod
To pierce the void
Of Space,
And steep,
Retreat,
Just moments later.
Days ago, a plane,
Like fifties’ sci-fi,
Pointy-tipped,
Curved straight up,
Exponential.
It tucked its wings
Up tight, and left
The desert for
The night,
To glide back down,
A graceful swan,
And skate the
Earth below.
This one, it breaks.
It blunts the tip.
And as the shaft
Skulks home, alone,
The cap, it bobbles
In an arc,
To float down,
Willy-nilly.
Something, like
A ghost we’ve seen,
On countless ancient
Arcade screens,
Deploys its chutes
And lands
So softly:
Baby’s cheek,
On pillow.
So, tell me–
Who will win this race,
This conquest
Of the nominal?
This uneventful,
Yet extraordinary,
Leap of Faith,
Beyond the bounds
Of gravity,
Soon hosting
Toasting bachelorettes,
And freedom-thirsty graduates,
And housewives,
And mechanics?
Make way for MICO,
Zero-grav!
Let NASA stand aside!
For paid space travel–
Well beyond
Our budget now, but soon–
Is not for single-
Breasted archers,
Unicorn’s
Best friends, alone–
But also for
The ordinary.
Everyday.
The nominal.
Like me.
Copyright 2021 Andrea LeDew
For a poem on the generation born and raised in the cradle of space flight, read Space Babies.
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