Instructions for the Endgame

By WYATT TOWNLEY

 

To see the unseeable, measure
its shadow. It takes eight telescopes
            on six mountains and
       four continents
ten days.

In the middle of Virgo is a black hole
more massive than six billion suns.
Hardly a virgin, her mattress sags

in the dark, warping everything.
Down here, our hips dig their trenches.
From bed to earth, a one-way slide

out of time—sex and death old friends.
From earth to sky, just one more step
on the staircase. The steps are steep.

None who enter leave.

 

Wyatt Townley is Poet Laureate of Kansas Emerita. Her books include four collections of poetry: Rewriting the Body, The Breathing Field, Perfectly Normal, and The Afterlives of Trees. Wyatt’s work has been read on NPR, featured in American Life in Poetry, and published in journals ranging from New Letters to Newsweek, North American Review to The Paris Review, Yoga Journal to Scientific American. Formerly a dancer, Wyatt has developed and trademarked her own yoga system, Yoganetics, now practiced on six continents.

[Purchase Issue 21 here.]

From the beginning, The Common has brought you transportive writing and exciting new voices. We are committed to supporting writers and maintaining free, unrestricted access to our website, but we can’t do it without you. Become an integral part of our global community of readers and writers by donating today. No amount is too small. Thank you!

Instructions for the Endgame

Related Posts

Headshot of Aimee Nezhukumatathil

Nocturne for Dark Things

AIMEE NEZHUKUMATATHIL
One of the marvels of my life— / an alphabet. A whole green and mossy / world can be made and remade / from just twenty-six dark curlicues. / Here’s more dark: sometimes birds sleep / tucked under a giraffe’s dusky armpit / and sometimes fungi fatten only at night.

A fishing boat on Dal Lake in Kashmir

[Freedom Song]

FATIMAH ASGHAR
i plead, come help free me from me. what an overworked god / the policemen’s gun turning towards the sand, the ocean’s azaadi / crashing blue wave after blue into the fishing boat, thieving / life from its water. everything is a freedom song, i hear azaadi / in the wind & in the flood

Supermarketing

LAUREN DELAPENHA
For example, the last time I asked God / to kill me I was among the lemons, remembering // the preacher saying, God is a God who is able / to hunger. I wonder, // aren’t we all here for that fast / communion of a stranger reaching // for the same hydroponic melon?