Cut Out

End of a 3,000 foot descent, full
moon, stomach, tent. Out here just

us two will rehash Big Dipper, stars
shooting from the same nose. You fog

into a nebulous mood over chamomile
made from gray water. I look out there
at the brontosaurus canyon back. Look.

The black silhouette absorbs
dim sky until I swear to black
upon black as divisible. Away and

farther. You don’t know. Ask me
to gaze. Folding up dusk for glitter

is like putting away
bare feet in snow.









Emily Spencer is a graduate student at The Ohio State University studying the Master of Education in English Language Arts. emilyspencer.net