The Explosive Expert’s Wife by Shara Lessley
Sky Gate: the abandoned observatory at Wadi Rum
The astronaut’s suit smells like spent gunpowder, the magazine says, meaning the moon is the after- math of war, or perhaps it’s the scent of satellites orbiting long-dead stars. In a dark pocket of the universe we walked the wind- shaped dunes that hissed like cosmic ice. I thought I knew the limits of sadness In this world, but the tent’s fibers glistened like a meteor’s pale tail and behind the curtain, I realized the veiled scope had kept its vigil for some time, wide eye pointed toward Earth’s illusory dome. It would be months before I heard you drag your packed bag across our marble floor to catch a red-eye bound for the city where the explosion’s embers burned for days after the attack, before the reporter on scene said the crew freed the woman’s husband by detecting with a tiny machine his still-beating heart as he fought for air. That night in the desert there was nothing to stop us from going in. We entered, undressed. If there’s a passage between this world and the next, let it begin in that dormant tent. Should darkness fall I’ll meet you there.
To learn more about Shara Lessley, go to her author website by clicking here.
This poem comes from The Explosive Expert’s Wife.
Click HERE to purchase.
Click on the printer icon to print this page
Below is a picture of the observatory.
Lit from the Basement is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to Amazon.com (this means as Amazon associates, we earn from qualifying purchases).