Poetry: “Fall (SpaceShipTwo)”

I am nine miles above you and falling

fast once iron groans and peels away

from me and strapped


to this rock I am birthed

too heavy


there is no air

up here and

slammed, gut compressed

to spine I could

not breathe anyway


but for a feather

I would still be floating

down to you I would not be

coming too soon that

is what a fall is


through whistle gaps in clenched

teeth I can hear the last time

you laughed we

were in the desert


and you were so swollen

when I left you


I was wrapped in cold steel

they said this is how you fly

but I know now this

is a lie of convenience.


Do you remember when

Michael would shuck oranges

between teeth

juice kissing chin

this too can be done to

a wing for I feel

each piece of cold

skin pulled away in an instant.


The desert is so wide

they say we turn locks

at night not to keep out

but to keep in


they say a child

born in the desert will always

be called back

they say


I will not come back after

touching sky edge but

they were wrong about

never but not how


will you be the one

to collect me from the desert

now that you are too full

to hold me too


now that I have come

too soon.





Ben Kogan is a recent graduate from Columbia University, where he studied Computer Science and Art History. Both his sun sign and his moon sign are Taurus.