[ I have the worst case of poet’s block right now (haven’t been able to write a poem in about 2 months), so here’s a poem I tried (and failed) to write based off a piece of prose I wrote a few weeks ago. I gave up. – Shae ]
she sits on the edge between dreams and aspirations, fingers wrinkling before her time clamped around the handle of a magnifying glass and she says:
one day i’m going to catch the first star of the night, right when it sheds its cloak and bares its breasts to me
she says she wants it to swim in her fish tank along with the chocolate telescope and the red celestial. she wants more than the world, she wants to fit the universe between 90s dial-up and a too many quarters spent elephant, between teenage egos and an unopened bag of skittles, she wants to fit universe somewhere she can feel the burn on her palm and the cool on her face.
she’ll wait until she’s flashed with a luminance to rival sirius and pray she can pluck it from its hold before it dims with the knowledge her unholy is gazing upon it
itself is unholy but we clutch our pearls in the sky with the hope we’ll be closer to god’s grey goose bottle half empty under flashing gaseous lights and unlimited definitions of space
with the hope we’ll feel like pockets full of moonshine, like glow in the dark stickers, and scribble our astronomy into the ink-stained arm of a taxi driver because how can we be expected to breath in seventy five percent dark energy?
where would we find the energy?
oneslamaweek 