by Mary K O’Melveny
Jeff Bezos will soon soar out to deep space.
Someone with thirty million to spare
will join him in that endless place
we all struggle to comprehend, stare
at as if we could know it, trace
its contours, fix its borders. Where
does it end, this endless cash some chase?
As workers sweat and toil in nightmare
warehouses, such wealth will outpace
most whose dreams must rest elsewhere,
whose week’s small paycheck is embraced,
then quickly dispersed. Some might declare
the super-rich have every right to showcase
their successes. Others will despair
our grave inequities—just in case
one missed them—say it is quite unfair
to celebrate when most of the human race
struggles, starves, resides in threadbare
dwellings with no breathing space,
much less leisure time or medical care.
For most, three jobs won’t outpace
the bills. Yet, our daily news fare
carries front page tales without a trace
of irony about travels of billionaires,
as if their exploits might displace
raw fears, needs, demands, the wear
and tear of days grounded in place.
Still, our imaginations can take us there
even without cash for shuttle fares to space.
We can visit vast black holes that appear
to consume all light, marvel at defaced
meteorites, search long dead stars where
memories lie fallow waiting to be traced.
We can follow spurts of sunspots, the flare
of celestial meteor showers. There’s grace
in that truth. Almost like an answered prayer.
Mary K O'Melveny is a recently retired labor rights attorney who lives in Washington DC and Woodstock NY. Her work has appeared in various print and on-line journals. Her first poetry chapbook A Woman of a Certain Age is available from Finishing Line Press. Mary’s poetry collection Merging Star Hypotheses was published by Finishing Line Press in January, 2020.