The night mocks me. Do you
see it turning? Stars moving
across the sky, the moon at
the lead, all racing to hide
behind the horizon. They can
escape this when it’s done,
and then start anew.
A puff of air escapes my teeth.
They seem like a cowardly lot.
Always chasing the end
of the day or night, never
facing each other. I can’t
imagine why anyone
would pray to them.
They’re so inconstant.
A squinting voice. But they always
come back. Some people
might find comfort in that.
A palm cups my mouth. I
speak through fingers.
Stupid sky, stupid stars.
They watch us shrivel
into dust, thinking they’re
eternal. But I’ve seen stars
fall from the night, breaking
apart before they can ever
touch us. They’re not eternal.
And they die for nothing,
just like us.
A shadow closes my eyes.
I am not some people. See how
the night mocks me.
A squinting voice. Yes.
© 2016 Stellular Scribe