Moonshot

I didn’t go but some of us did.

Twelve in total, good and true.

They all had their last supper

when the giant engines fired,

slamming beyond simulation,

pushing obscenely off the ground;

when the earth fell away, became

background, became a whole.

Or the casual glance back,

during a big crater bounce, at home

hovering like a football looking for 
goal posts on a lifeless horizon.

I didn’t go but in a way I did.

We all took a first gulp of vacuum

when we held our breath for them.