Astropoetica: West on the 148, by Amal El-Mohtar

Sunset on the highway When one is driving, one rather ought
to keep one’s eyes on the road. Trouble is,
when one lives west of the sunrise,
driving home becomes distracting. Consider:
the sky, aflame, ablaze, while I
try to avoid clichés.

I sigh. “look, girls—
look at the sky. Isn't it
beautiful?” “Yes!” they chirp,
smile, giggle. Kiana says
“the sky is like a peach that I eat.”

They haven’t fourteen years
between the two of them.

One really should watch the road
while driving. But it’s hard
when eyes insist on watering
an image far lovelier than asphalt
and yellow lines:

this little girl, taking giant bites
of a peach-coloured sky.

Amal, who lives in Ottawa, thinks everyone should recite "When I heard the Learned Astronomer" at least thrice a day, the better to live by the spirit of its letters. Her work has appeared in Star*Line, Sonnetto Poesia and Tracking Ground , and is upcoming in Abyss & Apex and Shimmer. She also co-edits Goblin Fruit, a webzine devoted to fantasy poetry, with partner-in-crime Jessica P. Wick.