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Telescope (a poem)

I want a telescope for my birthday.

I hear we’re made of stars and I’d like a closer look at my celestial anatomy.

Which one looks most like my heart?

Is there a hole in the sky where my spirit used to be?

My joy? My wit?

All the firey neurons that chatter in my brain and gut?

It will be an old telescope, use by others before through their own voyaging.

Wide-eyed astronomers.

Bearded scientists.

A woman like me.

Curious, determined.

A crusader.

The telescope will stand regal on our patio.

I’ll look through it every night to capture my true size.

Small, but high frequency against the vastness.

Just one of me, in all the millions.

A rare constellation.

Hard to see with the naked eye. Beautiful and willing up close.

Through its lens, I’ll keep my sights on the moon.

Her journey from new.

Her phases to full.

Wistful, blissful, kisses against my closed eyes sometimes.

Determined majesty pressed hard against my sleep.

And somehow I wake rested anyway.

I want a telescope for my birthday.

But I expect nothing from it.

No answers or favors.

No validation.

Just a glimpse from my cold patio tile to the sky.

Stars are binary.

That makes me proud of our connectedness, you and me.

So thank you in advance for this gift.

It’s just what I asked for and it’s perfect.

Let’s go barefoot tonight and watch the earth spin.


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