the stars remind me

The stars are pure bliss to me,

and the lapping of a many-cloven tongue against a rocky shore

a call of “hush” and “silent!”

The stars a field of flowers from a bird’s-eye view,

the world turned upside-down.

The way i disassociate feels right at home here, in this expansion, regardless of time,

and i hear a lone bird sounding a frantic alarm,

overcome by the waves.

A memory comes to mind;

Kristin and me, sleeping on the boat in summer on Higgins lake,

in awe of the stars and wistful for adventures,

flagging down at night the boats of much older boys,

eager to follow the beacon of our flashlights from the dock.

We knew better than to go, and blushed like babes at their approach

(because of their eagerness.)

What if they offered an alternate ending?

What if they had taken our hands and had led us on a wondrous adventure,

not expecting our bodies, not pressing in on the flowers of our youth?

(Surely we’d have succumbed all treasures freely then.)

The stars and the sea demand quietly,

but if i am not there to hear they will go on, sounding their snooze-alarm.

If i am awake enough to hear it then i will

(you need to be a little bit awake to hear them,)

those distant voices,

confounding past and future,

inviting pure bliss.

 

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