SupernovaA Poem by Marie AnzaloneI 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 AuthorMarie AnzaloneXecaracoj, Quetzaltenango, GuatemalaAboutBilingual (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
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