What’s Been Left Behind
Herb Kauderer
The hydroponics deck is as close
to home as I can find.
I sit there and try to remember
what cloud
what dream
what angel
told me to reach for the sky.
That distant star cannot be the sun.
Miles of mirrors guide its light
to longing plants.
All the gathered sunlight
and every plant on board combined
do not equal one quarter of my museum,
my place on earth traded
for the hope of an empty planet
where breaths are not counted
and measured,
and the battered remains of nature
are not held on display.
Can free air be worth this weight of steel?
Will I last long enough to find out?
I will sit and remember home
and hope…
