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Guess that’s it for the space program?

Lately, dreams of a body with no feet

my mother’s ashes at dusk, a baby

born from a box that is my stomach.


In the morning I know to leave my alarm

on the other side of the room, that space between

waking and getting out of bed is galaxies

away.       Discovery


landed smack back in Florida –


crowds stood to cheer


space returned home


for good.

Go to Rebecca Melnyk's profile to read more poems