Spaceships

 

Shapes that never flew,

 

clean lines that don’t

exist;

 

eccentric shapes of fifty,

sixty years ago,

 

of older sci-fi movies,

too,

of Méliès and Lang;

 

I put my spirit-child trust in

these

far-off, far-out

conveyances

 

through times and places

that I ken

at night when

looking out to dream an

open sky;

 

Liftoff,

 

mind stowed above shined

shelves of

unknowing, rhythmic,

turned controls that

take me

 

nowhere, really;

 

back of the senses, though,

that day by day must

gauge

and engage—

there’s unerring flying

there,

as is said,

 

believe you me;

 

rocket to a set piece,

yes, I know; and

I’ll keep

watching,

dreaming of silver-streaming

things

 

that might bear

you and me

away into otherwise

impassable,

impossible flight-filled night

 

C L Couch