All Tomorrow’s Sunsets
Futures of
vast openness,
wild abandon.
A blank slate
unfettered by
puny peons of today.
Her sorrow hinges
on her heartbreak.
When we are gone,
when the distant
sun fades,
the Earth will rest.
The long sleep due
the abused partner.
As we holler and spit
and blacken its eyes,
the Earth comes back
for more.
“I slipped on the ice,”
it tells Jupiter.
“I walked into a door,”
our old mother
mentions to Mars.
Our planet keeps
her pain pressed
deep in her
pocket.
But once we are
long gone,
it will stretch
and breathe
and take stock.
©2022 Andre F. Peltier All rights reserved.
Andre F. Peltier is a Pushcart Nominee and a Lecturer III at Eastern Michigan University where he teaches literature and writing. He lives in Ypsilanti, MI, with his wife and children. His poetry has recently appeared in various publications like CP Quarterly, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Provenance Journal, Lavender and Lime Review, About Place, Novus Review, Fiery Scribe, and Fahmidan Journal, and most recently in ShabdAaweg, Cajun Mutt Press, and Pop the Culture Pill. In his free time, he obsesses over soccer and comic books.
Twitter: @aandrefpeltier
Website: http://www.andrefpeltier.com
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