The first woman abducted by spacecraft

for Betty Hill, the first woman to report UFO abduction

Eyes pushing into my eyes and the rolling
of water-powered mills turning in Twin Mountain.
On earth, the factory grinding flour. Not on earth,
Jupiter visible like a pulled tooth. I am learning

that memory is secret like a horizon, expanding
past and through me. All I’ve known are men:
how they brush your face as a cornstalk might,
husks hiding the pearly kernels. How they block

the sun out. God forgive me if, blinking lights
on my neck, I want to be closer. There are ways
to be specimen: I know my behavior in the moonlight
is only data. That on the map I am an organism trying

to differentiate lost and searching. Flying over
the restaurant, they are silent in their descent.
Together like clumps of moss, the heavy machinery
making my dress ripple in their invented wind.