This is a performance poem. Watch it on IGTV.
The stars don’t always shine
because the sky isn’t always in the mood.
On nights they do appear
her head is clear
and she dazzles from dusk ‘til dawn.
You fell at first sight;
drunk on her starlight.
With her you’ll fall in love again each night
though you had sworn
She’s so bright. So smooth, like satin,
shimmering as ever,
Each sweet constellation you discover;
upon your lover. But -
she has a darkness.
In her depths
are secrets like no other.
Some nights she stamps on every light
and squeezes it between her toes
‘til it goes out.
She smothers Earth with thick blankets,
covers up your eyes.
The world turns black,
the moon is nowhere to be found,
you cannot differentiate the heavens
from the shadows on the ground.
The sky cannot be pushed.
She won’t be rushed.
She will not shine on your command.
She’ll take her precious time
and yes, she’ll change her mind
and no, you do not understand!
She doesn’t do pretence
so only when she’s ready,
feeling at her best,
will any twinkling recommence.
She takes a pacifying sip of the ocean,
and shrugs off the heavy cloak of cloud
she’d thrown around her shoulders;
bares them, one by one
each freckle on her back comes into view.
They’re not for you, those stars.
You may admire them from afar,
but she will not be bought nor sold
by young or old,
by rich or poor.
She won’t be gazed at any more!
The sky does not need your attention.
Lightening flashes angry on her face
if you should dare to mention
anything to do with space.
She’s not just any pretty thing,
she spits the rain at you:
leaving rooftops glistening.
A beauty, yes. She’s luminary
and she knows it. But -
if the sky puts on a sparkling dress tonight
it’s because she chose it,
not because you wished it.
There it goes, a shooting star.
Looks like you missed it.