Many believe
that everything is written in stars
I cannot read them

But I notice the absence of light on faces
as if vowels are all absorbed
by the retina black hole

And what is left of the twinkling words
is declining consonance

I can see joy in the eyes, as well
grins decorated with golden pentagrams

And I hear primordial syllables
silently sparkling
in each newly written poem
and falling meteor

These are our daily prosaic constellations
When did you last time try to read them?


Copyright ©2005 Luminita Suse