Beyond – a poem by David Bowman

There is not one bright star she can name 
but more than a billion burning her eyes 
fat dizzy to the void.
Shrewd orbits spinning in galaxy dust. 
Sailing comets glisten gone fiery tales 
burning in fictive beauty.
Her disorder - explosions of imagination.
The voices within her universal cluster.
She thinks the skies are laughing at her.
Ya know, I say, they probably are.
There is no moon tonight. Skies crowded 
by chubby clouds. Our bed will be cold. 
In her zodiac zones light years away 
her horror- scope keeps our love peeking 
into corners of her endless angled cosmos. 
Somewhere I must be there to fall - a star 
to make her odd universe- a wish come true.
Oh heavens - all things we do not know of each
other. Our hearts orbit this love as comets collide.  
Ya know, I say, they probably are.

David Bowman is the founding member of the Clemson Writer’s group. His poems have appeared in The Atlanta Review, Badlands, Wayne State Review, Mid-West Review, Pea River Journal and others. He is currently working on a collection of short stories set in Wyoming.

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