It’s a summer night just bright enough to put you to rest. Stars
point like tiny teeth in somebody else’s mouth. Test stars
on another visit, learn to understand a language no god discerns,
silence the drunk singing in the background, swivel into a gesture stars
recognize on their own: a nod, an inhale, eyeing upward.
You slammed your car door, looked up and from your chest, stars
erupt. shrapnel you’ve kept hidden in your heart’s pocket, sizeable chunks
require unaffordable surgery, so you dig in your fingernails, an almost caress. Stars
hide another body, carpet over the blood black sky with their shining, flashlights flicker
in a dark field blot out your sigh, the air in your mouth compressed stars.
Listen. I heard your heart stop way over here, Love; the light arrived faster.
I’m sorry I didn’t look up in time, that small sound, an oh, consumed by a nest of stars.
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