This is the day we will sink our own home –
it is old, they say, and can’t live forever.
I’m among the ones who must lock the dome
behind us and throw the keys in the river
of stardust in which we’ve swum for so long.
Happy new year! The cry goes up far below
us in waves, while we plot to do great wrong
to this ship in space. No keening in sorrow:
These are my orders. Death first by fireworks,
our vessel burned alive like a sailing boat
lit aflame at sea by men gone berserk
with grief. The saltwater will keep it afloat
as long as it can. For the rest of time
it will lie in pieces, like a heart once mine.
– A sonnet imagining the final astronauts onboard farewelling the International Space Station (ISS) before its deorbit.
