Point of View
Lauren McBride
At the end of each workday
mining frozen gasses
I pause at the airlock
and remove my face mask
letting my eyes mist
in the bitter alien air
not so different
from home-world.
Through acrid tears, I stare
at the jagged icy terrain
blurring to swirls of soft colors
to remind myself
I, too, can be wrong.
There is always
another way
of looking at things.
This poem first appeared in Keppler’s Cowboys Anthology, February 2017
