By Marta Shaffer
A v of geese
flying over the orchards
honking so loudly that
I could hear them
way down here
made me jealous
made me wish I could
line up with all
of my friends, together,
Open Prayer to David Bowie
I pray for the moon, because they found
water there, as I’m sure you’re aware. They say
the water is frozen in tiny, shiny, silver beads. What
a party. But how long til we thaw it, can it, sell it
in vending machines? Lunar farms: we’ll leave
forkfuls of moon cow on our plates and half-
finished glasses of moon tea on the table.
Space will become mundane, David Bowie.
If you have any glam rock sky powers, please
don’t let them frack our orbiting disco ball.
I guess what I’m praying for, is your wisdom:
How did you learn to see glitter and not want
to put it on?
Marta Shaffer teaches high school English in Oroville, CA. Her work can be found in issues of HOOT Review, Poets Reading the News, FIVE:2:ONE, and others. Marta hails from Minnesota.