For Terrestrial Bodies
So you never went back to the time you left yourself
on the tall grass beneath the dull black night
where you counted stars and satellites;
you listened as the planets hummed.
Because you had forgotten that like this,
even the pull of earth couldn’t move you.
Because you were still tv static and telephone wires,
barking dogs and the trembling streetlight,
you decided if life should exist out there,
it would be made of light and air, color and sound.
When you blinked and lost your body, the sky flashed,
you named the moons trapped in each planet’s gravity
and you only looked back once to find her there–
body on the tall grass, not terrestrial, but full of stars
About the Author: Emily Martin is a writer from New York City. She holds a B.A. in English Literature and Creative Writing from Hunter College and is currently working towards an M.A. in Media Studies.
Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Tall Grass, Landers” (2021)