Here
by Carla Sarett
The flying saucers never made it here; those news reports were premature or perhaps downright falsehoods. In all likelihood, the confused extraterrestrials flew straight into one of the forty quintillion black holes (where I hear nothing escapes, although I have no direct proof of this.) When I ask friends how it’s going, they assure me nothing is happening anywhere. Same here, I answer since I do like to be affable. I’ve read about the emptiness of the cosmos so there is, obviously, an awful lot of nothing. I don’t mention the sea stars— if a sea-star loses one of its arms, it manufactures a perfect new one…out of nothing. (This is not “fake news.”) Although I have not personally observed this regeneration; if I swim long enough and deep enough, it is only a matter of time.
Carla Sarett’s latest poetry chapbook, Any Excuse for a Party, is out from Bainbridge Island Press. She has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, Best of Net, Best American Essays; and Best Microfictions. Carla serves as Contributing Editor for New Verse Review and has a PhD from University of Pennsylvania. She is currently based in San Francisco.
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