The Cosmonaut’s Lament: A Poem

A sonnet.

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Among the stars, it’s hard to fall asleep.
There’s always something catching at your eye,
Some flaw to patch, some shudder in the deep
Depths of the ship, some unlocated cry
Of steel on steel. The ship herself’s awake
At all hours — feel her sigh against the night,
Faint as the solar wind, as though she’d take
Her leisure here, if I would grant that right.

Behind me, my companion’s sleeping sound.
Despite the whispering stars, she does not stir.
She’s dreaming of the feel of solid ground,
The smell of leaves, the salted ocean’s lure.
    I’ll let her sleep — there’s precious little here
    But starry cold, and endless night, and fear.

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