Poem: That Galaxy | Poetry | Hudson Valley | Chronogram Magazine
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Poem: That Galaxy 


In that iridescent galaxy,
not a spiral, not a cannibal,
I see our unborn children leading

me to you. I’ll never be cold there, and
they will call me by a name that means Smooth-
browed One. I’ll hear my sisters laugh across

the Milky Way at this. I will find you
moping, hands deep in your pockets. You will
slight me for not spending more time with you

on earth. But you won’t stay mad long. In this place
we polar twins will finally connect
in a different magnetism, different

gravity. You will fly with all the birds
you love, and hawks and ravens will be vegans
for my sake, which will disappoint you.

I will see Orion’s other side, and
finally he will look small, the only
hunter, and we’ll all walk on water.

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