Twin Moons

There are no stores
on the moon. Only the dark
centers of the lunar maria.

Missing you isn’t so bad.
Thinking about you makes me happy,
the astronaut read from
a crumpled postcard tucked
into his suit.

Early scientists bet their wives
these craters held seas.

An impossible woman
stood on her porch
in Texas.

A dark speck
absorbed the pour
of refrigerator light
from the moon.

Like a fly heavy
with cold, battening
down the latches
on the sheep pens.

Sarah Sala earned her MFA in Poetry from New York University and currently teaches College Writing in New Jersey. Yusef Komunyakaa once told her she should write a poem about ice fishing, which she still ponders from time to time. Her honors and awards include: an Academy of American Poets Prize, the Marjorie Rapport Award for poetry, an Avery Hopwood Award for nonfiction, and a Roy W. Cowden Memorial Fellowship. A short selection of her poetry was chosen for publication in the Small Anchor Press’s Dory Reader Chapbook Series in 2011.