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POETRY

Dark Forest

by Jonathan Travelstead

Wanting answers to questions Stephen Hawking says we're 
not ready to ask, I remember crawling through the casement window 
(wormhole) onto my parents' roof (space elevator). 

Reclining on the shingles (launchpad), I pinched the red planet 
between thumb & forefinger like a new penny I could slip, safe, 
into my pocket. Now when I lay on my own roof 

I think about my mortgage. How we say we own things 
that outlast us, though it's really the other way around. I think about 
what's out there & who's watching this lamp's flicker in the dark

& when they'll come. If they're watching the century of TV
we've been transmitting into space. Blackfaced Amos & Andy. 
Hitler. Cowboys & Native Americans with their themes

of control. Movies in which we capture ETs because we won't 
know if a will-o’-the-wisp is dangerous until we catch them all. 

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