Solar Sailing

How like a pubescent moth she was,
nascent wings of silver mylar 
folded in layers, 
tucked tight inside a faring 
once meant for sharp, seering
points of thermonuclear fire.

In a blast of hissing steam,
the ocean spat her upward
from the blue,
like a water nymph
rejected before birth,
sent straight to heaven
on a roar of fire and smoke.

Would that she had hatched
outward into silence,
her gossamer wings unfurling
to form a dazzling silver flower.

There, the gentlest solar wind
would have impressed upon
her outstretched wings,
propelling her outward
into the abyss.

Like a moth become a firefly,
she would have burned for months
like a hot jewel
against the stars,
alone with her wings
held taut against the breeze.

Scott Speck
06/21/2005