Space Station

    （Note： a space station generates gravity by revolving one way and then another. When it reverses direction to revolve the other way， there are several moments when gravity is suspended.）

    My mother and I and the dog were floating

    Weightless in the kitchen. Silverware

    Hovered above the table. Napkins drifted

    Just below the ceiling. The dead who had been crushed

    By gravity were free to move about the room，

    To take their place at supper， lift a fork， knife， spoon-

    A spoon， knife， fork that， outside this moment's weightlessness，

    Would have been immovable as mountains.

    My mother and I and the dog were orbiting

    In the void that follows after happiness

    Of an intimate gesture： Her hand stroking the dog's head

    And the dog looking up， expectant， into her eyes：

    The beast gaze so direct and alienly concerned

    To have its stare returned； the human gaze

    That forgets， for a moment， that it sees

    What it's seeing and simply， fervently， sees……

    But only for a moment. Only for a moment were my mother

    And the dog looking at each other not mother

    Or dog but that look-I couldn't help but think，

    If only I were a dog， or Mother was，

    Then that intimate gesture， this happiness passing

    Could last forever……such a vain， hopeless wish

    I was wishing； I knew it and didn't know it

    Just as my mother knew she was my mother

    And didn't……and as for the dog， her large black pupils，

    Fixed on my mother's faintly smiling face，

    Seemed to contain a drop of the void

    We were all suspended in； though only a dog

    Who chews a ragged rawhide chew toy shaped

    Into a bone， femur or cannonbone

    Of the heavy body that we no longer labored

    To lift against the miles-deep air pressing

    Us to our chairs. The dog pricked her ears，

    Sensing a dead one approaching. Crossing the kitchen，

    My father was moving with the clumsy gestures

    Of a man in a space suit-the strangeness of death

    Moving among the living-though the world

    Was floating with a lightness that made us

    Feel we were phantoms： I don't know

    If my mother saw him-he didn't look at her

    When he too put his hand on the dog's head

    And the dog turned its eyes from her stare to his……

    And then the moment on its axis reversed，

    The kitchen spun us the other way round

    And pressed heavy hands down on our shoulders

    So that my father sank into the carpet，

    My mother rested her chin on her hand

    And let her other hand slide off the dog's head，

    Her knuckles bent in a kind of torment

    Of moonscape erosion， ridging up into

    Peaks giving way to seamed plains

    With names like The Sea of Tranquility

    -Though nothing but a metaphor for how

    I saw her hand， her empty， still strong hand

    Dangling all alone in the infinite space

    Between the carpet and the neon-lit ceiling.