Stowaway

By Simon MacCulloch

Since they murdered all the goodwives we have waited,

slinking on the far side from the sun,

yowling at the cold blue eye of Earthrise.

What will see the pathway made anew?

Two deaths just to steal aboard their rocket,

six upon the journey here. But now,

tumbling in the talcum blitz of moondust,

she leads the floundering glass-skulled puffman on

to where the darkness never ceases nibbling

the custard-pastry edges of the day;

and he will carry back our green-eyed twilight,

and Earth will glow satanic once again.