Critical Prose & Poetic Commentary regarding UFOs and their astonishing ancillaries, consciousness & conspiracy, plus a proud sufferer of orthorexia nervosa since 2005!

Saturday, November 04, 2017


November 4th, 1957

by Alfred Lehmberg

A hapless female puppy dog... 
ablates in icy space... 
Unloved, beneath respected, 
yet a credit to the race. 
She starved to death; 
her air ran out; 
she burned up... 
but she suffered
She was the one, 
the first in space—
concern not made, or offered.
She's "just a dog," beneath concern 
of shiny *honored* man. 
She was so completely terrified, 
and she couldn't understand. 
Her ass was shaved
—electrodes placed—
this side of vivisection.
Then blasted into inky space, 
bereft of all affection.
Laika was the small dog's name 
I commemorate with verse. 
She's the one so chosen, 
and in space? She was the first
Of all the flesh that ever was 
from right back to the Cambrian, 
she's the first to breath in space—
our very special champion.
Forty years and then they choose 
to honor with a plaque... 
the sacrifice she made unasked; 
though it caused her death, in fact. 
Better late than never, 
but then so much better still... 
to—long ago—
have placed her stone 
on the highest sun-washed hill.
For half a year she spun the sky, 
to Earth at last, ablaze. 
I wonder if some saw her 
as she burned up in the flames. 
Perhaps a child, 
chance looking up, 
to see her shooting star, 
made a wish for her own puppy... 
and then ate a candy bar.


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