Elizabeth Beaton-IV

Still Life, with Galaxy

 

 

The moons falls into

the hand of a slick-haired poet

who whispers to it,

rubs its belly

and promises

kisses inked in a supernova’s light.

 

Stars sprinkle their dust

over poet and moon,

and laughter wanders

through tiny holes in the fabric

of space,

encircling the two.

 

<