Richard Williams - Two Poems
Content Warning: suicide
Looking for the Right Stuff
There is nothing
between Earth and outer space,
half a mile from here
at the end of a slip-road,
a single sphere
four-fifths blue
white arrow showing the way,
growing in size
swallowing the horizon,
this perfect sea.
Red-lining it
for speed and timing is all,
getting the angle right
and not braking.
Senses overload
the centre of attention,
of everything,
of nearly forgetting,
of remembering.
A childhood dream
of being an astronaut
lifting off;
a second maybe
of weightlessness
maybe more.
Perihelion
She says we might as well,
I say is there any point.
We drive as one in silence,
follow an unlit map.
Night clouds swallow winter skies,
devouring planets and stars.
Searchlights catching rabbits,
black-holed eyes stare out.
A fox, low slung across a field,
is caught in a slow turn arc,
whitening grass to ice then back,
finding our unmade path.
Kill the engine, park the car,
at ten she’s on the cusp.
Torches point in one direction,
we hold hands and walk.
34 million miles away,
Mars makes its closest pass.
Telescopes in hilltop domes,
waiting for a break.
Two hours later, giving up,
futures spin apart.
Out of sight, fox and rabbit,
dance a final dance.
As we leave the moon appears,
I say we go back up.
She’s tired and wants to be home;
I think but do not ask,
how much longer before you go,
and will we ever return.