“It will be one of several or maybe many suggestions
that we receive. The green dream, or whatever they call it,
nobody knows what it is, but they’re for it, right?”
…..ok but when i’m nancy’s age i’ll be dead and the earth will look like mars and the dust of my ex-body will have long since been crushed into the thirsty dirt. all my friends will be dead except for maybe one i don’t want to guess who. and she’ll have a grandkid who thinks the amber sky is lovely who thinks the tickly grass is lovely who barely ever reaches for the blue crayon. i’m hungry for more time. the clock in new york city says: seven years. tonight all my friends are drunk on zoom like, isn’t it funny how if the handmaid’s tale came out today we’d make fun of it. we would. we are so beautiful that our screens jitter with nerves. we are trying to be nihilists but we mourned the mars rover. forget about mars. here’s what i know: venus used to have people too and look at it now and when nasa flung a mic into its orbit all they heard was a scream. |
Casey Smith is an MFA candidate at the University of Tennessee-Knoxville. She is an assistant poetry editor at Grist Journal. Her poems have been published in Split Lip Magazine, Underblong, Longleaf Review, Passages Northand others. Her professional website can be found at https://caseysmithpoet.wixsite.com/home.