Postcard from Planet Earth//Alicia Hoffman

Hello. How are you? Here, there are two peony leaves flipped upside-down in the garden outside my window but as far as everyone knows there is still only one moon. From where I stand, it appears green isn’t enough to describe the variety and variable nature of nature. Do you have it? One on the outside and the other one inside your head? Most days, mine is held straight and narrow, an anchor I stay safely grounded by. This seems easy, but language is in fact the most difficult way to let anyone know anything, like how much you may love them, which is why most of us wander around in our own nature and try and try. If we ever get a chance to meet I would like to learn your tricks and tips. I would share them often so slowly at first and then quick we too will be able to say all of the things we wish: fluorescent and muted and orgasmic and petty and variegated and more, and more, and the moon will become a dictionary of synonyms for luminesce and the stars will be an accordion of infinite possibility and when we see each other after the mooning and the starring we will have tongues so ferocious with sweetness for what we’ve always wanted to say it will all pour from our insides to our outsides so fluid and quick we might become a brand new nature and it will all be because of you so thanks so much take care.

Originally from Pennsylvania, Alicia Hoffman now lives, writes, and teaches in Rochester, New York. Author of two collections, her poems can be found in a variety of journals, including The Penn Review, Radar Poetry, SOFTBLOW, Rust + Moth, Up the Staircase, and elsewhere. Find out more at