a weekly of fantastical poetry





The Stars Above Me

by Hester J. Rook


If I could ever pry my lips from you, 
little starseed, 
from your cheeks soft and butter-warm 
from your lips ripe as strawberries, 
I would tell you 
how long ago 
down among the fervent green 
we gazed up 
to see the stars wink out —
sputter into silence —
one by one by one. 
I would tell you of the sky 
fingerstreaked 
so dark we gave it colours —
here the purple of deepest ocean 
here the red inside my heart. 
I would tell you of the things we created 
in desperation 
cobbled together from scraps of metal and hope. 
Some of them flew —
some  even landed. 
I watched so many crash back earthwards 
like fireblossoms 
orange centred pearls. 
Instead 
I curl my fingers through your twisted hair and pull. 
You, whose people have known only forest-deep skies 
and gravity soft as the slightest whisper. 
I watch your lips open like a gasp 
and descend into your blackhole heart.



August 25th, 2016



web design © mitchell hart