David Milley

Galileo's Umbrella
 
Gall and fret, adhere and stick:
when two metal pieces touch,
airless, unrusted, unrutted,
they're hard to pull apart.
 
Here on earth, thin enough
gold wires merge on touch.
Cold welds, so used, make
delicate detonators.
 
Parents align children
to live lives by design.
Progeny marry plans,
cold welds on airless worlds.
 
When Galileo reached Jupiter,
its antenna – umbrella
packed closed for flight – 
the big dish could not open,
 
cold welded. Still, the job got done.
Fail-safe sensors felt their way.
Then, eye shut tight, Galileo sank,
plunged to a hydrogen grave. 
 
 

David Milley has written and published since the 1970s, while working as a technical writer and web applications developer. His work has appeared in Painted Bride Quarterly, Bay Windows, RFD, Friends Journal, and Feral. Retired now, David lives in New Jersey with his husband and partner of forty-seven years, Warren Davy, who's made his living as a farmer, woodcutter, nurseryman, auctioneer, beekeeper, and cook. These days, Warren tends his garden and keeps honeybees. David walks and writes.