Natural Satellite

during the moon landing we don’t
talk
we fiddle out thumbs stick our
tongues out at
our sisters ask the air “when is this
over i’m tired i want to sleep”

during the moon landing we rip holes
thru our dirty sneakers
giving ourselves ample time to find
new words for the excuses
we tell when asked about
ruination, the chastisement from our
mothers
who can’t understand why we tear
thru everything we touch

during the moon landing the older
generation holds its breath, touch
hands
a lecture from the tiny speakers of the
old tv telling a story about the 1960s,
a history
of 1sts long before our parents were
even alive

during the moon landing we get up
brush our teeth and thru the window
see the first light from a long
hot blast

“a star” our baby sister says but
she is wrong & the ocean finally
stills

By Emma Bosacki

Biography:

Emma Bosacki is a poet and storyteller living in Toronto, Ontario. A soon to be student at Queen’s University, she is studying a degree in both English and Classics. Her inspiration comes from other Canadian writers such as Anne Carson, Michael Ondaatje, and Timothy Findley. She lives with her girlfriend and two cats.