Every day, I wish I could fly.
When I was a little boy
wanting only to touch God's sky
I would spread my arms and flap them
the way toddlers are determined to walk.
I told God that
I lost my wings
in the womb of my mother.
I've been asking Him forever if He'd give them back.
In fits of seizure,
I would reach behind my shoulder blades
where my wingbuds were.
Now, God, my arms are tired.
One day, me and the good ol' boys
had a BBQ,
their dreams were dead too
all of our energy and faith is gone
from flapping our arms
like confetti without a holiday.
We wanted to fly,
so, our energy we had,
went to drinking rocket boosters
and we got more boisterous
as the sky bled black.
We were discharging cans from hands
like ejecting engines into the cosmos,
collecting space junk under our lawn chairs.
"Get ready to fly boys."
We want to fly,
Sip. Guzzle. Breathe. Toss.
Tonight we will touch God.
When you are this religious, you don't need church.
Speaking in tongues is easy when you have been drinking.
We feel more alive when we are more than ourselves.
Vomiting uncontrollably
onto the pavement,
I am heaving my guts out
wanting to know God's love
like learning language,
remembering everything
I've done today
when I taste it again.
I have spent my life
Nodding off and on between
This world and heaven
I could build a space suit from your silence, Lord.
The entire universe wants to know You
and we are killing ourselves
and others so our wings will finally open.
Becoming more than human;
looking into the stars
with Galileo and glass.
We held hands and pleaded
for answers like Icarus,
stressing myself out to find God
and melting my hair like waxen feathers.
In a moment of clarity,
I came closer than ever to flying
Releasing the constrictions in my gut
unraveling my arms into space shuttle wingspans
the engines blaring in my voice
Why did you make my soul an alcoholic,
when I only wanted to be your astronaut?
From: Chainsawsmoking: Poems Wrapped in Cellophane
Summary
“Astronaut” by Aaron Hopkins-Johnson is a poem centered on memory, love and relationships, family. The poem develops its subject through recurring images and shifts in emotional pressure rather than reducing the experience to a single statement.
Analysis
Voice
A personal, first-person speaker combines recollection with direct emotional address.
Style and form
The poem is line-driven, compressed, first-person. The poem moves by accumulation: images, references, and tonal turns build on one another, so meaning emerges from their relationships as much as from narrative sequence.
Themes and imagery
Its strongest thematic currents include memory, love and relationships, family, mortality and loss. Concrete images give those abstractions physical weight, while changes in diction and pace keep the poem from settling into a single emotional register.
Reading the poem
A productive way to read “Astronaut” is to watch how its images change function as the poem progresses. Details that initially establish scene or memory become emotional evidence. The result is a poem whose argument is carried through association, rhythm, and image as much as through explicit statement.
Explore this poem
Source & rights
Source: Chainsawsmoking: Poems Wrapped in Cellophane (Lawn Gnome Publishing, 2016)
Rights: © 2016 Lawn Gnome Publishing. All rights reserved.