Leap for Mankind
Where man cannot go, he sends women.
She acts as his vessel, empty and painted
What work has been put into crafting this woman
How men have spent hours perfecting her metals
The curve of aluminum honeycomb crisp
The brazed stainless steel wrapped so perfectly tight
And let’s not forget of man’s most vital detail
Once she is made, he embosses his name
His name on the module, his name in the cabin
His name on the hatch, on her legs, on the engine
His name in the newspaper, sent to the station
Her name on the papers, his name sent to Houston
How perfectly, beautifully barren she is
She contains controls but can’t do it herself
The boy she gives birth to, the men in her berth
The man she is named for, determine her worth
She makes it to Mars, she scrapes by the Sun
She does this herself, we credit her son
Is she not, comparably, clearly a mother?
For doesn’t she keep him, for doesn’t she smother?
And doesn’t he use her? And he doesn’t care?
And doesn’t she rust in the sea, in the air?
Does she not fulfill him? Is that not her job?
Is she not a ghost for him? Does she not sob?
When she’s left behind, because that was the plan
What do we call it? One small step for man.
