The satellite dish
In Iceland
Tracks sputnik
And my childhood
Hiding under the desk
From Russian bombs
Tracks dream
Tracks the inner fire
Of planets and the coldness
Of asteroids

The abandoned army base
With its bulbous tower striped white and red
Domes, geodesic structures,
Its tanks with haunting moonshell staircases
Seagulls perched on streetlamps
Barracks now full of students
Jets taking skyward
And everywhere the smell of the sea…

Tracks departure
Tracks my dead grandparents
Spooning borscht
Tracks how Russian
The Russian Jews still are
As packed and dressed
I must return and sit for a moment
In the apartment by the lake
So I’ll return
To Iceland

Tracks muffled oars
Mist
New found land
Earth’s satellite
The moon
I haven’t seen emerge
Even once
In a month of these white nights…

———-
Miriam Sagan is the author of twenty-five books, including the poetry collection Map of the Post (University of New Mexico Press). She founded and directs the creative writing program at Santa Fe Community College. Her blog is Miriam’s Well (miriamswell.wordpress.com). In 2010, she won the Santa Fe Mayor’s award for Excellence in the Arts.