Today's poem is by Lisa Fay Coutley
To The Astronaut: On Impact
I understand. I do. I used to lie back
flat against asphalt & take our moon
through binocularshands steady
as the dead's. I understand a planet is
its history of impact, what gets ripped
away & what gets left. The moon struck
from here flickers one brilliant sigh, one
small mouth stunned in the night, saying
nothing of two bodies about to collide.
Remember the way your legs dangled
over volcanic rock, the sun pressing
so heavy against the water we were
forced to bow? There's no prayer now.
Just histories that can only be told
given distance & time. Can't you see
from therehow a target arches
to meet the body cast into its moment
of shared light? I understand the evidence
is the catastrophe. To be defined. You
chortled. You snored. You chewed this sky.
Copyright © 2016 Lisa Fay Coutley All rights reserved
from Sugar House Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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