horizon surrounds us, a starful sea
of bright possibilities. celestial
navigation is hard when we’re part
of the map, when our heart is the
only sextant making sense. sense
is another word for the longitude
crossing down our chest, the North
pointing to our hopes. there are no
days and nights here. today is the
moment our galaxy holds its breath
as we pass through, sharing memories
of our sol in hundreds of languages.
maybe tomorrow, a change in course,
a rearrangement of expectations,
the search for those constellations hidden
from our yesterday, lost in their thoughts,
floating like us. adrift, aware, away from
our prime meridian.
| Eva Papasoulioti is a Greek writer of speculative fiction and poetry. Her work has appeared in Uncanny, Strange Horizons, Nature Futures, and elsewhere, and has been nominated for the Rhysling and Dwarf Stars Awards. She lives in Athens with her spouse and their two cats. You can find her on Bluesky @epapasoulioti and on her blog plothopes.com. |  |