Michelle Koubek
The Child
From far away, rings
circling a gentle lemon sphere,
smooth and crisp like a record,
cuts the empty air.
A flat sanctuary out of shadow,
flawless pond frozen so the beauty remains,
begs for the footsteps of the stranger,
dreams of the day without solo melody,
without loneliness,
as the child appears.
Yet the young one cannot hear it,
cannot sense the asp hissing in the weeds.
They rush, they yearn to touch it for themselves,
then, up close, rings
rubbled and broken
shatter everything that stops in.
_______________
Michelle Koubek is an autistic writer living in Florida. Other recent work of hers is either published or forthcoming in Strange Horizons, Star*Line, and Factor Four Magazine. Her website can be found at http://www.michellekoubek.com
Author’s Notes and Backstory: “The Child” was born, like most of my poems, from a fascination with outer space. There’s so much mystery in the universe, so much beauty, but at the same time, so much that can hurt us if we get too close. That’s what I wanted to emphasize here. I want readers to imagine themselves as someone with no knowledge of the planets as they’re drawn into their allure. If you read it from this point-of-view, the slight variation of the opening and closing will highlight how swiftly and frighteningly a perspective can change when observation goes from at a distance to arm’s length.
Editor’s Comments and Image Citations: Artist’s concept of Saturn and its icy moons Enceladus (foreground), Titan (large crescent at upper left), and Rhea (small crescent). Based on imagery from the Cassini spacecraft (NASA’s Goddard Space Flight Center: Artist Dan Gallagher (KBR Wyle Services, LLC)) and the angelic image of a young boy shadowing the scene (freepik.com)
