Body on an Island

by Emily Hockaday Issue: Spring/Summer 2021

It is between mosquito generations,
so we stand on the porch
and stargaze, like I always imagine
I do here on Fire Island but rarely can.
We point to Jupiter and Saturn
over the low canopy of holly and beach plum.
Mars is beneath our feet, on the dayside.
I miss the sweet malt of beer, how it brought everyone,
even the planets, closer. But was that real?
Without a drink, I’m afraid. I don’t want 
to be boring. I tilt my head 
and let the stars run down my throat. 
If I look long enough I can convince myself
that I don’t really exist. That the universe
is everything and nothing, and so am I.
 



Emily Hockaday

Emily Hockaday is the author of five chapbooks, including the forthcoming Beach Vocabulary from Red Bird Chaps. Her poems have appeared in a number of journals, and, along with Jackie Sherbow, she coedited the anthology Terror at the Crossroads. She can be found on the web at www.emilyhockaday.com and @E_Hockaday.