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Three Poems

by Christopher Stolle

Poetry

Map Points

side by side/                            westward bound/                                traversing/

fire behind/                              time burned/                                         festering/

music ahead/                           familiar songs/                                     harmonizing

 

wide open/                                full throttle/                                          accelerating/

route chosen/                          destination improvised/                 fulfilling/

rest stops/                                 broken resolutions/                          expanding

 

horizons beckon/                   shadows caution/                               rubbernecking/

cruise control/                         wind caresses/                                    comforting/

milieu forgotten/                    ennui cured/                                         believing

Tracy's Rock

for Eugene Cernan

The moon is always blue

No one visits anymore

One man made a final leap

in 1972

etched his daughter’s initials

in lunar dust

but the moon has been

stood up ever since

 

lavished with enthusiastic promises

told that the future lies there

begged to continue to brighten the night

 

but probes just fly by

manmade satellites

destined for Mars or Venus

and Icarus’s star

 

and like comets and asteroids

and long-forgotten space junk

none of them stop

and no one and no AI

wave hello or goodbye

 

and nothing is heard on the moon

but growing microbes

that have surprises in store

for humans who return

Sunset Caravan

We practiced our strides and paces

We know what to say if anyone asks

We have fresh dreams despite dirty faces

We hope to show what’s behind our masks

 

We don’t have to defend our intent

We feel threatened to explain why we flee

We deserve a chance to regain what we spent

We believe we can find enough ears to hear our plea

 

We escaped horrors and fought burning suns

We kept going even when told we might not earn asylum

We arrived here for love but saw only guns

We would shed our skin to prove we’re in the Chordata phylum

 

We realize no law can ever change an unbleeding heart

But we braved enough to know you can’t stop once you start

About the Author

Christopher Stolle’s writing has appeared most recently in “Tipton Poetry Journal,” “Flying Island,” “Edify Fiction,” “Contour,” “The New Southern Fugitives,” “The Gambler,” “Gravel,” “The Light Ekphrastic,” “Sheepshead Review,” and “Plath Poetry Project.” He works as an acquisitions and development editor for Penguin Random House, and he lives in Richmond, Indiana.

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