After Watching A Trip to the Moon (1902)

52093949_10100470478045350_5674564435616727040_nHow many costumed women does it take to push

a turn-of-the-century space capsule into a launcher?

When no one knows what’s beyond the breathable,

it’s easy to imagine how a few well-dressed men

could hammer rivets to a rocket and make it fly.

It looks like they’re inserting a giant tampon

into a giant pea gun and shooting it to the atmosphere.

Goodbye! wave the women to the men stuffed inside,

hurtling to the moon with the strike of a match. See how

that feels! The moon has a face you could punch

the eye of. The moon will take it. It will bleed.

In the noiseless unknown, stars synchronize

their illumination. Legs fold delicately

from their five-pointed faces. All feminine light.

When the ill-equipped astronauts pull a string,

the capsule releases from the moon’s soft surface

and falls back to Earth. No burn on re-entry.

It sinks to the ocean floor, where undiscovered

creatures circle the abandoned vessel,

and far above, confetti showers the men

who were brave enough to leave the known world

and brave enough to return, while majorettes

lead a marching band in silent parade.

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