TOUCHSTONE
ART LIT ABOUT SUSTAINABILITY STAFF

I want a constellation,

or maybe

a moon rock. With one eye

 

closed, I see nebulas, but with

the other eye shut,

I see burning suns, misting

 

cosmos, and waning

supernovas. What should

I ask them,

 

these celestial beings?

Will they reveal

my fate? What if I have to

 

defy their foretellings? I am

a fallen star, I have

already resisted their

 

prophecies. My family

befriended

a pack of wolves

 

once. But that’s no news

to you,

who knows my past,

 

all of my secrets. You’re the

moonlight peering in

when I stare into

 

the darkness. Sorry

for that time I ripped your

astronomical thoughts. I now

 

notice their allure. I feel

like the galaxies got to see them

if that’s any

 

consolation, and I enjoy

our memories even though

I could only ever

 

find silence on the moon

when I was with

you. I don’t believe you

 

ever paused for breath

and I think

the glowing lights in the

 

nocturnal night would

agree. Your sarcasm is

definite in this indefinite

 

world. We are all

dreams

warped into unobtainable

 

galaxies. And please don’t

say anything foolish

that might tear me out

 

of this slumber.

I don’t want to

leave the stars once more as

 

they are the only one’s

who know the truth. Truth:

my heart

 

will warp into a black

hole if you try to pluck

me

 

out of the sky. I would

rather marry Orion or

tattoo Ursa Major

 

upon

my shoulder than escape

those revealers of fate. Maybe,

 

if I stay up here, I will

learn how the stars

see us. Maybe,

 

they will teach us

how to become a

constellation.

IVY
KING

AS THE STARS SEE US

Poetry

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