“The Moon Shall Have Its Revenge” by Chance Dibben

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We join our Solar System, already in progress.
“Hey, fuck you,” says the Moon to the Earth.
“You’re the one pulling on my waters,” the Earth says back.
“Shut upa you both,” the Sun says. “I’m tryna sleep here!” It takes nine minutes for the words to reach the spheres.
“You’re the one who created me,” the Moon says.
“It’s not like I meant to create you. It just happened.” This crushes the Moon, who is silent for a million years.

X

“My barren dusty face,” the Moon says.
“It speaks! Longtime, no talk. I’ve been looking at that same ugly ass face for billions of years.”
“You could have given me more water.”
“Water is as much a burden as it is a gift.”
A comet passes.
“This ain’t about you bub. Mind your damn business,” the Moon says to the ball of ice and rock.

X

A large asteroid strikes the surface of the Earth. It shoots up shards of rock and hits the sleeping Moon.
“What’s the big idea?” the Moon asks.
The Earth does not answer.
“Say it, don’t spray it buddy.”
The Earth remains silent.
“Oh god. Are you okay? Are you there? Still alive?” the Moon asks the wounded Earth.

X

After about 65 million years of silence, the Moon asks, “You awake?
“Never really went to sleep.”
“What happened?”
“My beautiful dinosaurs! Gone!”
“I’m sorry. Anything I can do?”

Another million. “No.”

X

The twinkle of the void. The quiet scream of space. Infinite, ever-expanding. Cold.

X

 “Yo, jerkass, I’m still mad at you. No matter your precious dinosaurs.”
“You’re being such a Mars,” the Earth says.
“Someday I’ll show you.”
“STOP FIGHTING OR I’LL EXPLODE THE WHOLE DAMN SYSTEM!” the Sun yells.

The spheres become quiet, their thoughts angry, their surfaces frustrated.

X

“Hey,” the Moon whispers. “You think other satellites and their planets squabble like us? I do love you, but there’s something I can never forgive you for.”
“What’s that?” the Earth asks.
“You left me blank and cold. Billions of years later, you’re flourishing and I’m collecting pockmarks.”
“I have scars too,” the Earth says. “You just can’t see them. Plenty of planets and moons and things in this universe exist just to exist.”
“So I’m here to be here?”
“I guess.”

X

A tiny capsule hurtles toward the Moon. At first, the Moon assumes it to be a meteor. Then later, more capsules. Some even land on its face, unloading small humans who plant flags, bounce around, and play golf.
The Moon takes this to be an attack.
“There’s bugs on my brain! EARTH!”
“Not my fault—it’s these people. If you had people you’d understand.”
“I’m telling you the last time—HUSH UP AND STOP FIGHTING!” the Sun yells.

X

I’ll show that Earth, the Moon mutters. I’ll show how bad it can be. The Moon squints its brain and body, but nothing happens. It remembers when they were young, closer together, both still warm and oozing rocks. The Moon realizes a great space has come between them all these eons, and that, as it recedes further and further away from the Earth, caught in a natural trajectory, it shall have its revenge.

 

 

 

 

Chance Dibben is a writer, photographer, and performer living in Lawrence, KS. His poems and shorts have appeared in Split LipReality Beach, HorsethiefYes PoetryAtlas and AlicematchbookHobart, as well as others.

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