by Christa Fairbrother

I told him I’ve been
to Australia, pet
the koalas, and
they’re really not
soft, but scratchy. They
smelled like greasy, grey
linens. I described
the rehab center
where sick koalas,
rested, like a spa
day, then went home, back
to the forest when
they felt better. He
looked at these glassed-in
koalas, lumpy
small pillows asleep
on their fake trunks, leaves
taped on for easy
eating, the sky-blue,
blue-gum tree mural,
then looked up at me,
blinked. I might as well
have told him once, I
borrowed the blue moon
to play baseball with
friends. Why pitched-out, we
glued the moon back up,
higher for bright nights.

Christa Fairbrother, MA, has had poetry in Arc, Epiphany, Pleiades, and Salamander, among others. Currently, she’s Gulfport, Florida’s poet laureate, and she’s been a finalist for the Leslie McGrath Poetry Prize, The Prose Poem Competition, The Wilder Prize, and was a Pushcart Prize nominee. Connect with her at christafairbrotherwrites.com, on IG @christafairbrotherwrites, or on Bluesky @christafairbrother.