Evening
Dusk sloshes against the sky,
showing to us the darkness
that is always there, the stars
that are always there. The first
star, we say, as if they blink off
and then return for us. Where
will this one night go as we roll
around our corner of the star jungle.
Where can it go when out there in
deepest space, there is no day, no
evening, no beginning of an end
and no end.
Beautiful. I love the sloshing and the star jungle.
ReplyDeleteWonderful opening "Dusk sloshes..." because that second word is so unexpected.
ReplyDeleteI wish often we did not have so many lights that bar us from seeing that "star jungle" as it should be seen: as "deepest space. . . no beginning ... no end."
Lovely, Hannah.
"our corner of the star jungle" is evocative. The interesting concept spinning around this poem is time as a function of orbit, which opens up nicely to the (in my view) needed mental picture of no time.
ReplyDeleteI like this, especially the last three lines, and the subject in general. I'm not sure about "sloshes"--that kind of motion is perfect, but the word is inherently wet, to me, while space and time are inherently dry. Is that just me?
ReplyDelete