The following poem was first published August 8, 2024 in Poets for Science. It’s about planets c and d, orbiting around the star Kepler-138. I have long been fascinated by exoplanets, that is, planets outside our Solar System. Because these planets are so far away, we know very little about them. Thus, I turn to the medium of poetry to imagine what these planets might be like.

Planets c and d are currently estimated to be worlds entirely covered with water.

A thousand miles of ocean deep

surround those iron cores

Tumultuous waves tossed back and forth,

an ever-present roar

Water is weird at depths profound,

the pressure so intense

Water shifts from gas to liquid

to something far more dense

Around the dwarf, not one but two

such planets orbit tight

Blue twins like eyes of Earth-like size

peer back into the night

Volcanoes erupt and travel up,

the ocean daily boils

Across such seas no ship could sail,

the surface rolls and roils

This pair of wombs, with countless moons:

what creatures have you birthed?

We’ll never know unless we hold

a ship in waters berthed

The following poem was first published in the Summer 2024 edition of Altered Reality Magazine. It’s about a man living on the planet Mercury, trying to survive the extreme temperature oscillations. During the day, the surface temperature can reach 790 °F, while at night the temperature plummets to −270 °F. Interestingly, because of Mercury’s highly eccentric orbit, a solar day (the time it takes the sun to return to the same place in the sky) is two Mercury years long.

The first planet from the sun, spinning splendid, not outdone

by its neighbors orbiting in the solar sea

With temperatures most extreme, oscillating as its theme

from the scorching heights supreme to a darkness still and icy

            From this world I cannot flee

            From this madness never free

With no atmosphere to speak of, mercury rising, creatures sneak off

hiding from the soaring sun, searing blasted scree

Stretched across this barren plain, regolith gray and granite veins

a desert land where gravel reigns, absent the Almighty

            Forget me not, Lord, this I plea

            Save me for eternity

Temperatures are climbing higher in this heart of frost and fire

where a day lasts two long years by some strange decree

Where the sun sets once then twice, I’m trapped within this heated vise

my constant pining for some ice, I pray thee foolishly

            The heat is boiling, naturally

            But worse than cold? I disagree

The last of sunlight’s rays are gone, a year of coldness soon will dawn

I build a shelter, bundle up, then begin the long withdraw

A place of blackness with no moon, the stars across the sky are strewn

while I am bound to this cocoon, in a cave that’s bleak and blah

            My teeth chatter, tight-set jaw

            Jack Frost to my ears will gnaw

This cold sets in; it won’t let go. Around the campfire’s measly glow

to stay alive I take my leave and march my numb feet raw

So I start to weave and wander, while my sanity I ponder

I think I’ll backtrack over yonder, then I freeze in awe—

            The sunlight breaks! Aha! Aha!

            And so the ice begins to thaw

I can’t do this? Who’m I kidding? The stoic sun glares down, forbidding

I cover my face, give cry and chase, and fall on bended knee

Sunlight so white and burning bright, I plead for night: it isn’t right!

Please hear my plight, you ghostly fright! I beg you: can’t you see me?

            The curtain closes on year three

            This cycle will not let me be

The cold has come again, I say! I cannot last another day!

Seesaw, seesaw, mercurial beebaw! Deedaw, meemaw, gleebaw, streedaw!

I’m descending into madness, filled with overwhelming sadness

surrounded by this pointless badness, circling round and round

            I strive across this cursed ground

            where every rock is dull or brown

            for in this prison I was bound

            when my spaceship hunkered down

            and I very nearly drowned

            as my head was justly crowned

            with fateful memories I found

            of the grating, hating sound

            of a mind which knows no bounds

            but circles round and round and round

Hot then cold then hot again,

then cold then hot then cold and then…

The following poem was first published in the Summer 2024 edition of Altered Reality Magazine. It’s about a Venusian girl who longs to go to space and visit Earth. The poem follows her life as she struggles to complete this goal while the planet is plagued with the runaway greenhouse effect. Since Venus’s day is longer than its year, the girl’s age is measured in days. The poem takes place hundreds of millions, if not billions, of years ago.

1 Day Old

A baby loved and doted on

mountains rise above the water

Sunhawks chase while teavers yawn

as this blue babe begins to totter

But the air is growing hotter,

shifting clouds of orange and tan

The scarlet sky calls to this daughter

reaching up her hand

8 Days Old

The news across the aerovision:

“The Wights have flown their whirling disc!”

In the face of mocking derision

it rises above the stifling mist

But to her parents this girl insists,

“I will one day fly these skies.”

Such ideas have weight and risk

to such weathered eyes

13 Days Old

With her telescope she sees

a planet painted purple and red

The Pritchett enters space with ease

as dreams of orbits flood her head

But the planet’s blue instead,

covered with continents of green

This mismatch brings a sudden dread

to this starstruck teen

19 Days Old

She writes on a desk of marble

in the hall of cosmic school

Over diagrams of stars she marvels

this knowledge her ambition fuels

But she stays inside—it’s cool

for the rivers are nearly boiling

A passing pattern plain and cruel

cannot stop her toiling

26 Days Old

Now she sits upon the launchpad,

watching numbers counting down

The latest spacesuit snugly clad

and helmet fitted to her crown

But smiles turn to frantic frowns

as the mission is aborted

Clouds too thick and dingy brown

smear the skies distorted

37 Days Old

Her telescope no longer sees

the sun, the stars, her destination

The planet with the water, trees

and the hope of new creation

But she still believes her nation

can resurrect the disc anew

Counteract the fear, frustration

and reach the distant blue

54 Days Old

The days are truly, exceptionally hot

society long torn asunder

by the torment weather wrought

atmosphere thick with thunder

But she’ll finally fix their blunder

The stolen disc breaks through the veil

into space, and oh! What wonder!

Begin the long exhale

Planet three in view,

her flight is true

Everything she thought she knew

can’t compare to

that endless blue

She hurtles through

air fresh and new

and bids ado

to hellish hues

The following poem was first published in the Summer 2024 edition of Altered Reality Magazine. It’s about the first man to visit Pluto, and the ensuing madness that comes from the incredible loneliness, darkness, and coldness of the dwarf planet. Upon landing, he creates his own mission and meaning, seeking out the moon Charon.

Pluto is way far out there,

like, far, far out there, man

Getting there requires careful thought,

ample courage, a foolish plan

Zipping past the asteroid belt,

leaving Earth behind

Nestled tightly in my craft,

my only friend my mind

Past Jupiter and Saturn,

wearing rings in style,

then on into the inky black,

my self-imposed exile

Then Uranus and Neptune,

those icy blue marbles

The Earth is now a mote of dust,

my thoughts and feelings garbled

Alone now in the open space,

those giant planets long gone

Pluto still so far away

just me in the starry pond

What point is there in flying this far,

billions of miles from home?

The only answer is deep within,

that restless spirit to roam

Pluto appears up ahead,

white and gray and red

The sun behind a pinprick of light,

momentary dread

My tiny craft passes through

a too thin atmosphere

As I step onto the ice,

my heart is filled with fear

No human beings or living things

for billions and billions of miles

If I give in to loneliness,

the god of death shall smile

I set across the broken plain,

scrambling over craters

My mission I set for myself,

to the human race, a traitor

The planet cannot warm itself,

the sun glows strangely dim

76 hours of day gives way

to 76 hours of night so grim

Sleep then wake then sleep then wake,

then sleep and wake once more

Each time the darkness still remains

while I search the untamed shore

The stars above my only guides

what patterns will I find?

What constellations can I create

inscribing arcs and lines?

Pluto’s tiny, tiny moons—

Kerberos, Nix, Hydra, and Styx—

might wander cross my field of vision,

faint irregular specks

My journey ends when I finally find

Charon, my new companion

I recline and peer above

at icy grooves and canyons

White and gray with a smattering of rust

upon the northern pole

My loneliness evaporates

as I reach my long-sought goal

Witnessing this lunar beauty

no one has seen before

Pluto’s face is locked with hers,

true love forevermore

Charon’s surface faintly lit

by lights bounced off his crown

Up I gaze and often wonder:

is anyone gazing down?