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Poem: Sadie

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Her hands are worn from walking the Earths and

Moving stars in the dead of night.

She wears rings for utility and because

She likes their sheen.

They are scraped and ephemeral

But still vivid.

She cups some moonlight in her hands,

Allowing it to dance around before

She tosses it for me to catch.

I do, barely, and let loose a cutting retort.

She matches it easily with an obscene gesture.

The room is empty, but not absolutely.

Light flickers in the center as we gaze

Out, into wide windows,

Open jaws bearing the brunt of space.

I see the stars

And suns

And moons

And Earths–

Flecks in the Engine’s teeth.

I want to ask her how long it’s been, and

How long it will be before our knuckles brush once more

In a fist bump.

I want to ask if she’s okay. If she’s okay without him.

She smiles sadly at me.

I know she sees the questions in my

Eyes, I know because I see them in hers.

“We’ll be okay,” she says.

I suspect the truth is less kind.

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