There is no ruined lunar city,

no airless Macchu Picchu

on the moon.

No spires rise in leaping

Seussian whimsy,

enabled by the one sixth gee.

There are no domes cracked

by random meteorites,

leaving homes below exposed—

dead and full of surprised dead.

There are no teddy bears

worn threadbare by loonie hands,

eyes cracked by extreme days and nights.

There are no pools of orange

Tang swirled with moondust,

homage spiraling with artistry.

There are no empty spacesuits,

their linings dry and cracked

from decades without air.

No, there are no lost

cities on the moon,

with squares that recall Topeka,

Vladivostok, Quito, or Rome

and streets that run

from crater to mare

only to stand empty

because men have moved on.

But there will be.

Greg Beatty suffered from writer's block for several years, and credits the great folks at the Clarion West 2000 writing workshop for restarting his writing engine. He's currently working on a children's picture book titled The Man Who Gave Orders to Cats.