I’m told the Moon’s gravity is
one-sixth of that here on Earth.
Imagine time spent in a place
where there’s so little resistance.

I could do a grand-jeté there
even though I flunked out of ballet.
Or maybe a jump kick to the head
since I prefer fighting to dance.

Wouldn’t matter that the cartilage is gone.
My knees wouldn’t hurt on the Moon.
And falls wouldn’t do any damage
if my bones grow brittle and thin.

No one yet lives on the Moon.
Scientists are focused on Mars.
They’re looking to make great discoveries.
I’m seeking full life to the end.

[Editor’s Note: Publication of this poem was made possible by a gift from Space Cowboy Books/Jean-Paul L. Garnier during our annual Kickstarter.]