Space Junk Poem by Marina Lee Sable
Some part of you survived
the hypervelocity of impact
and the pulverized satellite
in the realm of many sunrises.
Adrift in a graveyard orbit
of dead stations, corpses
of collisions, booster rockets
and all their slag and dust.
Strange flashes of radiation
zip through your ghost eyes
on this frenzied carousel
hurtling round Earth.
You wonder if radar will pick
you up as a spectral shadow
or dark mass. An unexplained
phenomenon cataloged and
monitored in the wasteland flux
where blackness leans into the soul.
Or will the atmospheric drag
reclaim you as it did the astronaut's
glove, the tool bag that drifted out
of reach, and Roddenberry's ashes.
A comet, a fireball, or vapor trail
in the sonic boom of annihilation.