They think we are all made of stardust.
I ponder on this fact as I drive
Vision blurring through my windshield
That we are all connected, through
Galaxies and the remnants of stars.
High beams glare through my
Windshield, exploding supernovas,
Blind me by their brilliance.
Maybe that is why I don’t notice
The dog in the road.
I hit it with a thump, swearing, hoping
I didn’t hit a person, I park and
Leap out of my car to see if
Blood or stars were smeared
Over the twinkling asphalt road.
It was just a whimpering dog,
Leg twisted with the power
Of my planetary gravity.
My eyes were drawn into
Its glare; all-encompassing.
I don’t like dogs all that much
But I reach past bared teeth
To pick it up anyways, set it
Comfortably in my backseat.
I continue home, a planet and moon.
Meteorites hit the Earth every
Day, a constant barrage of
Debris and dust. It is rare
For it to be significant, for
It to make a change.
I lay the dog in my home. It shivers
On blankets, now soaked red
With oxygen-iron-hydrogen-
Carbon. I try to feed it, feel
Heaving lungs through dirty fur.
We do not know if there
Is life on other planets. All
We know is that WE exist,
All these creatures connected
By molecules, by stars.
I carry the dog outside. It looks
Up to the heavens and I feel
A rush of emotions stronger than
Any imploding rocket.
The night sky shines in its eyes.
They say we are all made of stardust.
I want to believe this fact,
But it would mean accepting,
As I shoot this dog,
That I am also killing myself.
Elliot Fylstra is an Earth and Environmental Science major. They are in the class of 2027. Their favorite art form is crochet, although poetry and digital painting are close behind. Their favorite pastime is birdwatching.