These poems are from a series inspired by reading Atlas Obscura stories while listening to a music genre randomly selected from my list. The poems were written immediately after reading, still while listening to the randomly chosen music. Please share and/ or click the “clap” button at the bottom if you enjoyed this.

The Apollo Astronauts Signed Memorabilia in Quarantine — as Life Insurance
“old timey classical (Bach)”

Read my name. It’s carved on the only monument
on the moon. It means I died to shed gravity and therefore
find immortality: I knew it would happen, even in quarantine
when we all signed envelopes for our loved ones to sell
after we died. We pretended we were rock stars.
I signed some with the names of the Beatles.
We pretended our groupies would clamor
and we tried to forget our signatures
would be worth more after we were dead.
The others lived and their names aren’t carved in a sculpture
on the moon. When I learned that even the moon is not forever,
I thought of the sermons in church.
How grisly and muscular Jesus looked on the cross,
and I wonder why they put that on the wall
instead of an emblem of his Resurrection.
In college I took a course in world religions.
We learned the Fire Sermon. We kept meditation logs.
We fasted until sundown. I suppose a story that ends
with death in space should begin anywhere at all, like I should say
when I was a kid I pointed at the moon and said
“What is that thing?” That my parents said it’s how God
shows he loves us at night. Now I know they lied.

You can find me at http://www.erinlyndalmartin.com or on Twitter at @erinlyndal.