She saw the stars

apart from one another and serene

Simone

like one could never hope to be

or wish to be, upon this crooked Earth where

man

a galaxy onto himself

commands and strikes and wrecks

a disappointed mind bent upon illusion.

 

Sometimes the stars

would send a soul-mediator

disguised as bird or grain of sand

alighting on her open palms,

seared

by the year’s blaze

and the rationed soldiers’ sugar

refused with abstract iron pity.

 

The stars were sad that night

Simone

and sorry as her sisters

for her, taking leave on foreign ground

and self-destroying grounds

this world

where one revolves upon one’s carnal glory

of which she, sister of many, spouse of none,

refused to bear the burning seal.