The Explosive Expert’s Wife by Shara Lessley
Sky Gate: the abandoned observatory at Wadi Rum
The astronaut’s suit smells like spent gunpowder, the magazine says, meaning the moon is the after- math of war, or perhaps it’s the scent of satellites orbiting long-dead stars. In a dark pocket of the universe we walked the wind- shaped dunes that hissed like cosmic ice. I thought I knew the limits of sadness In this world, but the tent’s fibers glistened like a meteor’s pale tail and behind the curtain, I realized the veiled scope had kept its vigil for some time, wide eye pointed toward Earth’s illusory dome. It would be months before I heard you drag your packed bag across our marble floor to catch a red-eye bound for the city where the explosion’s embers burned for days after the attack, before the reporter on scene said the crew freed the woman’s husband by detecting with a tiny machine his still-beating heart as he fought for air. That night in the desert there was nothing to stop us from going in. We entered, undressed. If there’s a passage between this world and the next, let it begin in that dormant tent. Should darkness fall I’ll meet you there.
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Below is a picture of the observatory.
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