Alone
we orbit each other,
a binary
system, united, attracted.
All that is
left: us. The earth is gone.
We no longer
acknowledge the sun
or moon,
so actively engaged
with one another.
We become.
When we met,
we said there was no
such thing
as love. Or maybe there
is.
Becky Armoto lives in Indianapolis where she writes for a nonprofit organization and teaches writing to undergraduates. She received her MA in English from Indiana University, and her previous works have appeared in genesis and The Flying Island. When she's not balancing her roles as mother, wife, teacher, poet, and all around swell gal, you can find Becky sleeping or watching Sci-Fi Network.