Compartment 114
Compartment 114
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Supernova

Supernova

A Poem by Marie Anzalone

I did not offer you the stars in the sky

because they belong to no man

and no woman to be given away like that.

If I think of you when I gaze with longing

at the stars, it is because they have

long evoked that same wonder-sense

for all of the human story, that I get

when you smile at me, and use your eyes.

 

What I told you was that our bodies are

made of the same star stuff as the comets,

and that I could give you that small sky story;

hold me just right and I will make you

recall why poets say we are as immortal

as Arcturus. I know to call it love because

you have always felt, to me, like meeting

my limitations where morning wakes us

from the passage of Venus and Mars.

 

Our friends revere the stars of silver screens

and stage sets. Another looks for actors and

actresses for her play. I often wonder whether

they see two of our city’s greatest actors

in front of them? That you can act like I am

invisible and I can act like it never breaks my heart,

that you pretend to not be watching me.  If you

think I do not love you, it is because I can hide

entire universes in the hair I only let down at night.

 

If you must leave, please let your leaving be

like a supernova. Take me out for chocolate,

feed me an ice cream with your hands; assure

me that, in another life, you could have loved me.

Make love to me again, to say goodbye- and this

time, when you hold me, call it love. Even if you

are lying. Make me believe you wish you could

have stayed. Tell me how a meteor flashed through

your life, and you caught a piece of it with your heart.

 

Or tell me, you cannot bear to live without me. I’ll

believe that, too. We can go on being unacknowledged

actors in unscripted plays. Even Elizabeth Taylor

held secrets close when she played Cleopatra. When

you awaken tomorrow night and think of me, the

Southern Cross will be waiting on the horizon, to

greet you like the old friend you are, while I go on

being your stranger from the north lands.

© 2018 Marie Anzalone


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Added on March 4, 2018
Last Updated on March 4, 2018

Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xecaracoj, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual (English and Spanish) poet, essayist, novelist, grant writer, editor, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to ta.. more..

Writing