Carla Schwartz

Astronaut


Hoping to drop in from the sky like Mary Poppins,
blue satin umbrella hooked between my fingers,
I was ready for takeoff, excited to show my friend
who lived across the street.

As I took off, the steel grill
of a Nova smacked my head, struck my ear, plunged
me and my umbrella into the sea of our driveway.

A capsule in the ocean,
I couldn’t stand, couldn’t walk—
Damaged nerves, they said.

At three, I didn’t know a car could do that—
steal all my hearing from my left ear,
sink my chances of ever becoming an astronaut.