Nothing prepares you for the starkness. - Buzz Aldrin
The horizon cringes
from that heavy black.
Craters cast shadow
like, What might be missing?
Boulders the size of small cars like
What might be too much?
When earth rises, I imagine all the girls
down there standing on scales, plucking
eyebrows, stuffing bras. I can’t see from here
my daughter
watching a show about a necessary
makeover. Lifting her shirt
to the mirror, she squeezes the skin of her
beautiful pale belly.
Mr Aldrin, I hear you read from Genesis
up here. I didn’t have to
bring that book. They carved the story of that hijacked
apple into my brain years ago. And oxygen?
What woman needs it? We have grown
so comfortable holding our breath.
Thoughts from my Time on the Moon
by Stacy Boe Miller
Stacy Boe Miller is a writing consultant and third year MFA Creative Writing candidate at the University of Idaho. Her work can be found in or is forthcoming in Frontier Poetry, Midwestern Gothic, Blood Orange Review, The American Journal of Poetry, and Copper Nickel, among others.