We tried to track its footsteps
through the trail of broken cow bones
and crumbled candy wrappers,
but our oxygen supply was too low
and we couldn’t see without the third star
rising from the opaque horizon.
The initial scans showed heat signals
moving on the surface, but we dismissed
the readings as a system malfunction.
Beneath the polychromatic daylight,
I saw a brief flicker in the background
before crushing force grinded my bones.
Its face instinctively repelled
any electromagnetic waves,
making it almost invisible.
In the absence of reflected light,
there was no way to find it
without torching the landscape.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Yuxing Xia is a scientist by day, poet by daydream. His work has been published or is forthcoming from Strong Verse, Society of Classical Poets, Boston Literary Magazine, Otoliths, Star*line, Eunoia Review and elsewhere (see yuxingxia.wordpress.com). He also really likes boards that promote justice such as the washboard. Like really, all kinds of flat boards.