Space Station
　　by Tom Sleigh
　　 （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.

　　-