Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

Space Probe

NASA has sent Juno back to Jupiter;
there she will whisper to us
the tides that pull at his mass,
and we will seek to understand,
again, why he did not become
iridescent, why he is not also
a sun.
I hear men have sent Pluto a
new horizon in the form of a small
metal box. I remember making
a Wednesday morning comic
line, “We’ve been sending boxes
to Pluto for years, why is this
a new beginning?”
If I could have sent anything with
that tin can, I’d have sent my voice,
and I would have begged the King
and his brother both to let the boat
stay tethered a bit longer,
to let Charon stay his oar a
moment longer, because your
breath still smelled like
applesauce and dandelions,
and your eyes still had lazy August
watermelons in them.
Ben Walls graduated with a double BA in English and History from a small college in Hattiesburg, MS. He has written poetry and prose for many years, and has recently begun sending his work out for publication. Ben is on staff as a poetry reader for cahoodaloodaling.

Categories: Poetry

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