SELENOBAROPHOBIA

I used to dream that moon crashed into the earthwhenever I’d have bouts of anxiety.

4th grade: Christmas concert where we were all sentenced to sing one solo                                                                        line in front of everyone.

Little Carla Jean, rolled her turtleneck up over her face, tuft of blonde hair sproutingas she delivered the line. She left it like that while the rest of us whispered our lines.

That night, the moon fell from the sky. Crashed intothe tree lighting at Rockefeller Center.

Prom tickets on sale: All the boys linger in the hallways.Suavely leaning on something, chomping their gum too fast

or red-cheeked and sweating. A mine field from class to class.I am in love with a girl in the next town over.

The boy next door approaches, 2tickets sticking out of his letterman jacket.

That night, the moon-wearing a purple corsage around itLike a belt, smashed into the gym like a missed fly ball.

Thesis defense final question: One word to describe your overall theme.Is there a word that means: to make the moon stop falling? I don’t say that.

The department head shakes my hand, and I still feel like an imposter.What now, am I in charge of teaching? Asking someone these questions?

That night, the moon spies large over the Alumni,suddenly speeds towards us, they overturn chairs

trying to flee the graduation ceremony.But you can’t outrun the moon.

I am in Australia and my wife to be is driving us towardsthe Sydney Harbour Bridge. The radio Occasionally mentions

the super moon. I thought about the panic-dreams and smirked to myself.I’ve seen her 18 days out of this year. Impending separation

until immigration decides we’ve answered the visa questionsto their liking, are rich enough to support being in love,

have no terrorist ties, have paid every fee they can issue, maxedout every review time they can, this could take 4 months or years.

What will the dream be tonight? The moon crashes into our courthousewedding? The moon crashes while either one of us are in midflight

to the other? I laugh nervously as the bridge comes into view.The moon sitting behind it, the width of it.

“Wow.” she says as everything echo-drainsaround me and my body goes numb.

It’s growing as we drive. Once, when my grandmotherwas making egg salad she said, “What if science is just wrong and we find out later?”

I stare at it, the moon is a hard-boiled yolk. Is it later?What if science is wrong, if theories dissolve

and it just—hits us.

My anxiety is ruled by the moonand now yours will be too.

Is everybody seeing this?I check my phone.Is this a catastrophic event?Photos of it flood CNN’snewsfeed. I can hearshutters all overthe world cuttingit into slices.

It’s so bright that night can’t fall.

Is it displacing oxygen?I touch my neckMy heart rate must be170.Her hand reachesfor the radio dial, twists,She looks excited.Her mouth movesat half speed with the lyrics,Sisters of the Moon.

It’s a space rockwith nothing on it.Alan Shepard’s golf ballsCharlie Duke’s Family photo.We are spinning in spaceand can’t even feel it.We have lookedand can’t find a tree anywhere.It’s now bigger than the fucking Sydney Harbour Bridge.There aren’t birds on other planetsand we can’t even feel that,only when the moon is big.If we survivedriving into itI leave here,I leave her,in 3 days.