by Peg Alford Pursell
Even the stars collect in families.
No body is alone in space.
Astral pearls of light –
strings of sisters – glow,
Father the brilliant medallion
marks the mouth of a black hole,
A hydrogen web Mother spins
and weaves her nebulous net,
the Old red ancestors fade
but never defect:
Gravity.
We don’t have the same
laws or attraction,
other more subtle forces
constrain us
in these painful arrangements.
We scatter. Maintain
our distances,
pray to transcend night maps
we navigate.
We are separate constellations.
Unconnected dust
and intentions.
Previously published in The English Journal
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Peg Alford Pursell is an award-winning poet and fiction writer with an MFA in Creative Writing from the Warren Wilson MFA Program for Writers. She’s a writing instructor, and also co-produces “Drive-by Shorts,” a weekly spoken-word radio show of ultra-short fiction. Visit: www.pegalfordpursell.com
Last 5 posts by Guest Poet
- A Poem by Daniel Coshnear - December 17th, 2010
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Last 5 posts by Guest Poet
- A Poem by Daniel Coshnear - December 17th, 2010
- The River and The People - December 17th, 2010
- Immigrant Girl - December 17th, 2010
- I Feel the Cold Embrace - June 29th, 2010
- A Breeze of Wings - June 29th, 2010
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