I suddenly become aware
and taste metal.
In a panic, I pop a pill.
Seventy of us,
encased and strapped together
hurtling in space,
a determined meteor.
Thank god, we ride a blinkered steed
for all around
the stars rain down
and dust combusts in brilliant sparks
and flakes of rock and glass swirl
and awesome nuclear explosions rage a million miles away.
We passionate, gasping little things
neatly sewn up
sacs of liquid and stuff
these microscopic hearts thrashing out a beat that feels
overwhelming and powerful.
I gaze down
as our steel envelope battles
the forces of the universe
on our behalf.
From here, it’s hard to see,
but in this way we grind back, or forward
an inch or two.
Exhausted
I sleep at last, feeling grains of sand between my toes
the wash of salty air on my eyelashes
and the dying sun’s rose-tinted caress –
and behind us secretes a precious mixture:
the blood, the pain, the money and the land,
the oil and gases and the light of centuries past,
the humble bequest of the dead
and forgotten.
