First Girl on the Moon Her bedroom is a stellar nursery. Lights out, glows marshmallow. Orion’s belt studs the headboard as Saturn’s placid rings constrict the hours till dawn. In night shade now, even the lambs and lions on her pillow sleep tight, each fuzzy muzzle cozied up as prophecy foretold. Seven years old and already a skeptic in her bones our bookworm floats cloud-light across the skies of her imagination—fine-grained, feathered. She can go anywhere in this trim vessel, the foam of memory her compass guide to Nightmare, Fairy Tale and the Blank Page. I close the door and bid her bon voyage.
Marc Alan Di Martino is a Pushcart-nominated poet, translator and author of the collection Unburial (Kelsay, 2019). His work appears in Baltimore Review, Rattle, Rust + Moth, Tinderbox, Valparaiso Poetry Review and many other journals and anthologies. His second collection, Still Life with City, is forthcoming from Pski’s Porch. He lives in Italy.
Grand Little Things 