After Many Years


The gravity of our bond keeps us
spinning, orbiting.
But we move no closer.

Our space cold, familiar.
Path-worn answers to ancient questions.
The pressure flattens words to dark silence.

Light from only one direction.

Note: I submitted this “short poem” (less than 40 words) for a contest run by Fathom Magazine for their latest issue. My poem wasn’t selected, but I had so much fun writing it that I thought I’d publish it here anyway.

Photo Credit: Denis Degioanni (2018), public domain


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