Drawing the Horizon Line
We hunt for spaceships underground.
Maybe their sky floats through drip-stone
and a pirate’s teeth. Maybe the sun
envies their stardust pearled into water.
Maybe the oceans begrudge their metal
scorched way down into silence.
And maybe you’ll envy us, too, when we
scratch our names on a thick Centauri steel.
Their dark maps are scrolled across a coral reef,
and their thin poems are whinnying into sharks.
Maybe you’ll wish us real good luck tonight
if we ever come back to you.
Clyde Kessler lives in Radford, Virginia with his wife Kendall and their son Alan.