On balmy summer nights we went out to
see the space station pass. My father would
run up the stairs, shake my shoulders, and pull
me from my slumber. Barefoot I followed
him out, looked through the telescope he held
up. There is not much you can see from so
far, but he said, “There are people up there.”
For them, we stood up straight and watched the light
crawl across the velvety black sky. I
wondered at the distance between I, who
stood barefoot on warm gravel, and those up
and without gravity’s pull to safe ground.
I wish we all had a telescope and
practice pulling those from far away close.
Brittany Lee Frederick is a poet and short fiction writer based in Boston. She studied English and creative writing at Stonehill College. She has also published with the Harpoon Review and Glass Poetry. To read Brittany's bad tweets follow her @Britt_LF and to contact her email brittany.frederick2@gmail.com.
