I longsufferingly confide you to the shadow
As I stare at the capsule slipping in orbit
Behind the chalky, round lamp inconstant, and I
Imagine you cradled in space, suckled by tubes,
Wordless as you curve back this way invisible,
The substance now of things hoped for later, not too
Much later, I hope, the evidence of things not
Seen, things seen soon, I hope against hope, and I wait
For your ricochet around, a seed I have sown
To come up greenly, but this winter night sky is
Blacker than any soil near Cape Canaveral,
And I wonder what you see on the other side,
Camouflaged from Earth, hidden from my telescope,
Muted from my ham radio. I refuse to
Ask if weightlessness tempts you away from me
To new missions further, further and further flung, if
The dark veil might snag, and you could stall mid-curve and
Plummet into a crater pockmarking night, but
Despite my clenched jaw, I still squint up, remember
Penelope, her wool tapestry woven and
Unwoven as her rogue Odysseus wandered,
And I look to the days’ dishes, diapers, wonder
What might be the point of work while you are out of
Sight — somewhere surely a Star Trek Circe offers
Her hospitality, turning spacemen to pigs
In space redundantly – but never out of mind.
(Photo Credit: NASA, Public Domain / Second Nature)