A Rocket Named Babel
One day,
we’ll surge past the exosphere,
flying at
two hundred ninety-nine million seven hundred ninety-two thousand four hundred fifty-
nine
meters per second.
So fast, the stars look like angels.
One of the horsemen
will watch,
resting on the event horizons
and his face will blur
as we pass him by.
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p-a-lom-a
Hello! I'm a 16 year old girl with autism, and I've just started writing poems as an outlet to my less-linear ideas that I can't put into essays. I love science and literature, and I especially love to combine the two. I draw a bit, but not much that I like to share. I'm also on tumblr @p-a-lom-a and I'm doing NaNoWriMo 2019 under the same username.
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