18.1 Summer 2020

Susan Hutton Later

It began with blackberries
and goats to keep the brambles
down. An occasional coyote,
impossible to catch, captivated
the life of the mind. For a while
the land was covered with litter
and poisons you couldn’t see
but the earth was still really beautiful
from orbit. Astronauts saw a glacier
in South America that was actually a desert
of salt and flat enough to calibrate
distance from the earth’s surface
to tiny spots in space. Turned that way,
miles don’t mean the same thing,
but someone launched a satellite
that breached the imagination. Llama trains
carried the salt across the Incan empire,
a difficult distance because nothing
ever rises. Not even the horizon.


Susan Hutton’s first book, On the Vanishing of Large Creatures (Carnegie Mellon University Press), won Ploughshares’ John C. Zacharis prize. Her poems have appeared in North American Review, Poetry, Field, Prairie Schooner, and other magazines.