The Stars Above Me
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