Requiem For A Cassowary

Here is the man, your hero, shot
into space by sign of what man can do;
what ass can question, what ass has got
more than an astronaut's glory? You?

Halo'd on podium with his lessers, the crew,
he's God's own bratty favorite.
Shine and stardust? He's made of it.

The Moon and Mars fall back a pace
in the face of science's full command,
to probe, to pierce, and then retrace
back home to our grand blue ampersand.

Yes, here is the hero, the amplified man
in parade, in decline, in decaying orbit,
ceasing the circle before he could form it.
_______

for Margaret's Play it Again, Toads # 14. Bursting with hubris, I did my own!