Gravity's Pull

Past the moon, on the backs of meteors

we flew, wind in our hair.

As if we had built in radar,

we never hit a snag as we moved

among the stars, feeling safer

than if we’d been curled in our beds

back on Earth, in the real world,

with all the ordinary things

like houses, trees, jobs and mortgages.

Abiding in the exosphere, fueled by passion,

we zoomed along with the best of intentions.

Those were the precious times,

the times before our protective shell was pierced,

before gravity pulled us down,

holding us fast in these lives of neglect

where we wait for the telephone to ring,

foretelling the inevitable messages of

meals to be missed and late nights at work.

There will be no more trips to the moon.

There is no reason to wait up.

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[Author's Note: This poem was first published in the chapbook, Beyond the Horizon: Journeys in Poetry and Prose, 2010]