Poems on the Moon

I went out to see my poem last night, a cold night, the Cold Moon just breaking through branches where a last hawk watched me watch the cold Cold Moon appear. My poem too must be cold by way of the second law of thermodynamics, nickel a good conductor of cold, and the surface of the Moon so very cold, even this Super Moon swung as close to us as it ever gets. Full of reflected Sun, still cold. A cold light. My poem also reflects the Sun, its doomsday demise in a faraway future, the Moon’s too for that matter unless we demise it sooner somehow fiddling around up there with nuclear reactors, excavations, extraction, the dark squabbles over who owns what where in that cold, cold place where we’ll arm ourselves. We’re tired of cold wars. Poems designed to last a billion years don’t really stand a chance. Tonight no one makes a fuss over an unnamed moon, gone from the news cycle, though the night still as cold, the Moon too. Newly waning, nearly as round, as big, nearly as bright, nearly the same as ever—but not quite.

Previously published in “Poets for Science” on February 22, 2026.

---

Former Santa Clara County Poet Laureate Sally Ashton is Editor-in-Chief of the DMQ Review and the author of five books, including most recently Listening to Mars. Her poem “4.6 Billion Years” is now archived on the Moon. Going to the Moon, a book of essays exploring her personal experience and the race to space, is forthcoming from Duke University Press in July 2026. www.sallyashton.com  

---