Conference with shiny moonface:

Above the crackle of the helmet’s two-way,

words, like sticks expertly flicked,

stripped away the vulnerable creases

of my protective suit; the atmosphere

suffocating - his purpose was clear.

Young astronauts on fledgling journeys

should never forget the stepping order;

the ladder, the dust, the gravity-reduced leaps

demand an order or consequence.

Others sat and listened, in visors,

like plastic travelling birds,

their occupied heads sagely nodded -

I am certain I heard them swallow

in sympathy and relief; the scraped goat

is preferred to personal flesh and blood

forced to bear the brunt.

I knew

even as the silence fell

swifter than an eclipse

the journey home

would be long and awkward –

its sails spread like an angel’s wings,

a rocket can soar upon the solar waves

and still encompass hell.