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The Fall of a Rocket’s Empty Fuel Tank
Shaking, shuddering, skyward I crash as if I, alone, can break this glass haze with the fire sloshing in my belly. Every movement, I feel— my breath— arch into the greed of those astronauts, high on my fumes—guzzled and smuggled through my hissing steel veins to fuel our shared madness; I see the stars…