Scribble: Carina
November 20, 2011
A Star-veined rope,
his Sagittarius arm
curves near
the still sparking bottoms
of extinguished matters,
Spirals through
undressed eyes
and a night sky opened
even as I sweep up
the starbirth.
Unspooling further
from the almost,
he hushes,
his pocket full
of collapsed secrets.
I go wondering,
pressing my ear to
burned out star carcasses
listening for the rush
of his voice.
Shelley Scribbles 
Leave a Reply