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After we climbed Snowdon,
my sister went to live on the moon.
And when it was new I paced all day
knowing she doesn’t like the dark.
I am still here on Earth feeling the gravity
and faithfully recording
what the air smells like each week.
I guess she knows that when she returns, I am going
to ask her what it smelt like there
each Monday morning.
I google to see how long a moon day is.
I wonder why I never learned this at school,
but I guess they didn’t expect sisters
to be going to live there then.
There are different answers, but it’s clear
a day is almost an earth month.
She’s been gone three weeks now.
So for her that’s not even a day,
but to me it feels like a lifetime.
I imagine her happy when it’s full.
Her with her big smile
and that laugh as real as the time she said
we should go to the park
and dangle bacons on sticks to catch the carp
the men in tents are always trying to catch.
But now I am confused whether she will even know.
All I can do is wait for unclouded nights
strap on my head torch
and wave and hope.
I don’t even know if she went there
because she still believes in the Man in the Moon
or to get away from me.
Sue Finch 