If space is myth
I will break it like a glow stick
and find a beat-up old atmosphere
at a garage sale somewhere.
I’ll sand it down to a blonde,
raw sheen and glue
the clouds back
where they belong.
I’ll paint it a new color,
a nice pumpkin orange
or black and white spotted
like a big, bony cow
and put it out back
where it can drift around the yard,
my own personal space
very nearly built by hand.
We’ll have a big party,
with haybales to sit on
and a bonfire to make it snap
in the dark so the colors
run together like that northern lights thing
and when it gets late and our eyes
start to close, I’ll spin three times
with a stick in my hands
and swing hard to crack it
like an egg over our heads
so it can dribble down
on our faces and drip on our tongues
like a sweetsugar rain.
What a delicious darkness
I think it will be,
like the sitcoms I read about
in People magazine
and when the night is over
we will all close our eyes
and become famous
for remembering
the beauty we lost so well.
short fiction, poetry, and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in numerous publications including Crack the Spine, Limestone, Passages North, Barn Owl Review, Gargoyle, Storyscape Journal, PANK, apt, and Anderbo.com. She teaches at The Writers Circle Workshops in Summit, New Jersey.