Space Station


It isn’t 2001

I wonder if music is played


There is no gravity

I keep forgetting

Doubtless, they don’t

The denizens in their seasons

We might say, they are the ones

Closest to God

They’ve nearly slipped those surly bonds

This presumes that height

Is the criterion

And that Aldrin, Armstrong, and Collins

Were even closer for a time

I would not fault them for nearness

Or for an early audience

I can only contemplate privation

In their metal skins

And everything that must move

In everything


It is no loss to the rest of us

Should God say

In the way that God has spoken

I’m happy you came by

The nearest of creation to date

To seek my face


C L Couch



NASA – STS-135 Shuttle Mission Imagery direct link, Public Domain,

modular International Space Station, the largest human-made body in Earth orbit


“High Flight” by John Gillespie Magee, Junior