006 “The Explosive Expert’s Wife” by Shara Lessley

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.

Below is a picture of the observatory.

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