As in you, uploaded. Evaporated
into the unmappable everywhere.
As a kid, I saw sanctuaries
of animals in the skies: contrails
as pythons, schools of swimming cirrus seals.
So I know that millennia will stack
like those very atmospheres my sightline scaled
for creatures. What might people see
in our skies of eons? What might they make
of our floating, pixelated vapors?
Surely, the seemingly touchable—money, manuals,
houses—touchstones, but really stones
of stuff, infinitely pestled in key-strokes. Currency
and factoids and myth pulverized to a debris
of ones and zeros.
Courtney Hitson teaches English and literature at Georgia College & State University. In 2025, she published work in The Potomac Review, Canary: A Literary Journal of the Environmental Crisis, New Verse News and others. Outside of writing, she enjoys cultural theory, unicycling, and post-structuralism.
