star-me
star-me
did not die in her sleep.
she did not hulk or gutter,
wheeze out like a dying balloon,
roll over,
slowly become mold.
instead, star-me
was a shrieking gravity bomb.
In her last moments as
star-me
she ripped through her own innards
with electric nails
and her palms met.
she fried herself
weeping with cosmic beauty.
i came from that brightness:
the iron in star-me
became a baby in my mother’s womb.
light made waves in her skull,
its pulses
became operas and abstract paintings.
if every poem is a letter,
mine goes to god.
i say:
let me go like that.
give me one last scream
against the painted backdrop
of eternal night.
Author notes
love and astronomy.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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oooph. been assaulted by words and wrung by imagery. well you have definetly captured that passionate agony and intensity, and its raw beauty.
"she ripped through her own innards
with electric nails
and her palms met."
i love the diction
"she did not hulk or gutter."
don't know whether these are real words, certaily never seen them before, but they are perfect. all the description is this is vivid and creative and awesome, but for me the description of dying in sleep was really striking and thought-provoking, never thought of it like that. never thought of it much at all before actually.
the only thing i didn't love in this was "star-me." for some reason that bothered me.
the ending is absolutely gorgeous.
"give me one last scream
against the painted backdrop
of eternal night."
here's mine: WOW!
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