Beside the telescope, I ask Dad if he ever tires of the same
old objects night after night, year after year. He says each
viewing has its own quality, just as the particles in any
breath of air are unique. He’s checking in on constant
friends as they rise and waltz across a ballroom sky
(ladies’ diamantes glittering, men’s dress shoes shining)
and that dazzle, for him, could never grow dim.
Hands snug in snow-jacket pockets, I ask if he believes
that the pull of planets affects humans, as astrologers
would claim. He says, Bullshit. It’s all too far away.
But what about the moon? I say. And the way blood
gushes from women in tides? Yes, he concedes, that is
amazing. I ask about UFOs. He says, if so, our aliens are likely
just humans from the future who found a way to fold
time—disciples of Einstein. Ah, so you believe in time travel
then? I smile. Look up, he says. You’re doing it now.

Bronwyn Lovell lives in Melbourne, Australia. Her poetry has appeared in numerous publications, including Award Winning Australian Writing, Australian Poetry Journal, Australian Love Poems, Antipodes, Cordite Poetry Review, and the Global Poetry Anthology. Bronwyn has won the Adrien Abbott Poetry Prize and been shortlisted for the Newcastle, Bridport, and Montreal prizes. She works for Australian Poetry and is writing her first verse novel (www.bronwynlovell.com).