Poem: Dubbing Planet 9

Most days, reading or watching the news makes my heart ache.  This week, hearing about the quiet planet chillin’ at the edge of our solar system, took me to a different kind of dark place — the beautiful mystery of space.


Dubbing Planet 9


We can’t see you, shadow planet,

but we know you’re there.

This is more than faith.

More than wishes made

on all the shining stars.

(Maybe it’s your light, so bright,

that we’ll see tonight —

forgive us our mistake).


You can’t hide forever,

even floating far

past imagination.


We’ve got your tracks, elusive giant.

You Bigfoot in space,

and we’re excited, tittering,

because we love to dub.


This is our time, baby.

Our chance to claim the cosmos.

No more stuffy Roman gods,

no more démodé Greek deities.


You need a now name.

Something trending:





Make you mononymous, female:





Or formal, with title,

honorifics for our stellar stone:

King Orb

Lady Rondure

Miss Mary Mack Mack Mack

(Way out in black, black, black).


A century from now,

if you’re spotted, snapped, shown

to all the world, will we know better

how to name?


Is something ineffable until it’s seen?


What new words will have sprung from

our multilingual human tongue?


A millennium from now, if humanity remains,

curious, searching, able

to touch your primordial face,

will we know you then?


Will we be any closer to understanding

why you’re there, why we’re here,

why anything is

at all?


I go to work (here, at my computer)

If my writing had to talk about itself, it’d probably tear up a little, then confess that it often feels lonely and neglected.  I always want to spend time with it, but it usually gets the shaft in favour of family and other job obligations. But I really do love it, I love who I am when I’m with it, and I make time for it when I can. In the past year I’ve realized if I want it to thrive, I have to give it extra special attention.

Last fall, I applied as an apprentice in the Writers’ Guild of Alberta Mentorship Program  and was surprised and excited to find out that I’d been chosen .  I was even more delighted to find out that I’d been matched with Sue Sinclair, an accomplished Canadian poet that I admire very much.

In those unseasonably warm October days, January seemed really far away. Oh, the plans I had to get a jump on my project! The words I would write, revise, and even polish to a shine. Then I blinked, or sneezed, or something, and here it is — the first day of the program.  Unfortunately, some of the poems I’ve written are still looking a bit dull. And many others are just chilling out in my head, waiting their turn to see the light.

No jump start, but heaps of enthusiasm. I have a plan, a schedule and motivation. I have a mentor that I am thrilled to work with, and am part of a Guild that had enough faith in my writing to give me this opportunity.  Over the next four months, my writing will get the attention it’s been craving.  Now, in the immortal words. of Kool Moe Dee, “I go to work.”