In my bedroom my weight is three times more
than what I’d weigh on Jupiter.
If your kitchen was on Mercury I’d be heavier by half
of you while sitting at your table.
On Uranus, a quarter of my weight is meat,
or an awareness of myself as flesh.
On Venus the light would produce a real volume around me
that would make me look happy in photographs.
This is how it is with quantity in any life. It’s a fact
that on certain planets I’d actually be able to mount
the stairs four at a time. Think of the most beautiful horse
in the world: a ridiculously beautiful golden horse,
with a shimmering coat; it would weigh no more
than an empty handbag on Mars. You need
to get real about these things.
“This poem playfully explores the fact that we are bound to our perceptions of the world by the vessel and environment we exist in. That objects and bodies weigh something on one planet, while on another planet they are ridiculously heavy or light, is absurdly beautiful to me.”
—Todd Colby
Todd Colby is the author of Splash State (The Song Cave, 2014). He lives in Brooklyn, New York.
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