re: the first falling star

this poem
is written under a gray sky,
looking out, poem-level,
at the power lines & december-naked
branches.

it has never smelled heather
in winter; it prickles
with gooseflesh but won’t
let you turn on the heat.

this poem
says: you must make
your own fire. it owes me
nothing. like you, it dreams
in cats.

this poem has no hands.
it sleeps naked. it likes
summer nights and
long walks under the stars.

this poem
is winter on paper,
a message in a bottle
washed upon a cold
Atlantic beach.

its breath steams,
champs, hisses &
waits for us, all, melting,
in the dark.

10 thoughts on “re: the first falling star

  1. Love love love to love you baby loved this. I like how the poem became so many things. Great imagery, esp it dreams in cats. Each stanza has a great unique idea to offer. This was gorgeous. Also liked the falling stars effect – fancy! Seriously good, young doctor.

  2. this poem
    says: you must make
    your own fire. it owes me
    nothing. like you, it dreams
    in cats…..has no hands….seriously from the verse above on…this really rocked….you wrote this similar to the cantalope poem…or at least a similar cadence…

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