All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Astronaut
December 30, 2020
Every morning, I watched you eat
the same bowl of cereal for
a half-dozen light minutes, or
eighty million miles.
Did your father wipe the milk
you spilled on the counter?
Did he tell you not to cry?
Did you cry a lake of nebulae
knowing in nine years
you won’t remember my face?
Will you look into the theater of night
and ask for the curtain to rise
one more time? Will you peel
the black fruit raw
and look for me?
Daughter, I am
not there.
It’s been three light
minutes since my last breath.
© Allison H., Vancouver, WA
Similar Articles
Previous Next
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.
In this piece, I challenged myself to write a poem about an astronaut without using the typical words: space, stars, rocket, and launch. The result was a poem less about the vastness of space, more about the loss that distance begets.