Always your face like a space <br />(Destination: beautiful) ship <br />Empties its mote of closeup trace <br />Down screens that blink blank blip <br /> <br />Somewhere between countdown <br />And coma time is a line <br />Where waking centuries often <br />Drained against that measure we find <br /> <br />Our blood redshifts (direction: west) <br />Until film can clone one sun <br />With stars both whole and gone <br /> <br />Attending every sequel <br />We pray for an intent equal <br />To our interest<br /><br />Bill Knott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-ripley-alien-1-4/
