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How to Stay Alive in Space


When you happen to find yourself 

underneath the hold, of the punching vaccuum of,

deep space.

My terrified daughter, hold your breath tightly!

Plug your small freckled nose with thumb and index

Seal those dainty blue eyes with one pudgy pink hand,

Curl into the smallness of our tea towel cupboard

 

While meteors crater the torso, fists, soft sides of your mother

I will radiate my love back to you.

From the blue brown yellow green of the novas 

Under the neck of my long-sleeve blouse.

 

Sweet daughter! 

One day the stars will not seem so far,

the meteors will only rain on foreign planets.

 

And although black holes will eat all the light

From the corner room from which frightened voices carry

to the farthest cupboards,

even through the silence of space,

 

The jitterbug atoms of my love

will get to you

From every nova, void, and chasm.

 

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Arden Ashley

A Pacific Northwest writer and visual artist attending Washington State University.

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