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