The Rag Pickers of Asteroid 482
We landed on the rocky edge
to the sound of disco. On the surface,
the planted flags of China, the USA,
Brazil, and South Africa flapped
furiously in Asteroid 482’s
airless orbit.
Stefan was first: he cut the American
flag along its stripes and braided
ribbons into his hair. The stars
fell off and drifted into space.
The exhausted cobalt mine
yawned and swallowed Emil.
Ang cried, but Stefan said
Emil was better off. Then,
Ang cut the blue circle framed
by a yellow diamond out of
Brazil’s flag and sewed it
across the hole in her shirt
over her heart. The stars fell
off and drifted into space.
Nostalgia does nobody any good,
Marta said. So Carlos took China’s
flag and made it into a floppy hat.
The yellow stars tumbled off,
drifting into space.
Joseph took the South African flag,
cut it into strips and made it into
a hammock, even though none
of them had ever seen a tree.
They heard a scream from the dark
mine. It faded too slowly. The hairs
stiffened and tingled on their necks.
Nobody thought to turn off
the disco, so after stunned silence,
each rag picker started to dance.
Trevor Cunnington is a queer and neurodivergent writer/artist/educator who lives in Toronto. They have published poems in Carousel, Open Arts Review, Poetry Super Highway, and various anthologies. Additionally, they have work forthcoming in Last Leaves, The Orchards Poetry Review, and The Rivanna Review. In the visual arts, they have published photographs, a drawing, and paintings in magazines (including a cover) such as Maisonneuve, Cerasus, Inlandia, and Word For/Word. You can find them on Instagram @trevorcunnington and on Twitter @trevorcunning.
