Rocket

You're just sort of being propelled and hanging on, 

riding forces that you can't control.

There are chains that hold you to the planet, and you've broken them.

Bear us away from this awful place. 

The passages rock to the right and back to the left. 

Open the side body because it was once a prayer, 

and we were kneeling.

Who invented the moon?

It's a myth, resonant

like the dying. Rock me to sleep. 

Surrender, since there are swords and horses. 

Watch the firmament on tiptoe, study

the stifled roar.