ISSUE IV

20 SIENNA SOLSTICE
Gagarin in the Trees
Andre F. Peltier
The ghost of Yuri Gagarin
floats down the hallways
of the International
Space Station.
The resident astronauts,
cosmonauts, uchū-hikō-shi
salute as he slides by.
They tell him their deepest secrets
while flushing their filth
into the void.
“Dear Yuri,” they say,
“It’s been eight hours since
my last evacuation.
I have eaten two portions of
dehydrated chocolate pudding,
and I spent twenty minutes
on the tread mill.
I really miss morning coffee
overlooking the
Hollywood sign
and the Kiselyova Rock.
I miss lazy Saturdays
in my garden.”
“Поехали,” he replies.
The vacuum of space
greets the spationauts
and the spationauts wave
to Gagarin while falling
27,000 kilometers per hour.
When the falling station
misses the curve of the Earth
again and again,
the spationaut says
a brief prayer,
thanking the engineers,
those great rangers of
the atomic age.
Claudie Haigneré said
her prayers to Gagarin also
and in return,
he blessed her saintly
homecoming.
eases around the trees
in my back yard
and climbs the tallest
to get a better view.
He climbs the tallest
to recall his vantage
point in orbit.
The ghost of Yuri Gagarin
returns to Клу́шино
and reminisces with his
Muscovite brethren.
They recall
the good old days.
They wait patiently,
and they see what
the future
holds.
Personified River
Linda Dallimore
The ghost of Yuri Gagarin