Slow comet

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Some seek the cold.

Anna slipping out of her clothes and into the sea

Kate with her hair in every river

Jon who loves the surf best in ice and knifing wind.

Not me—the one in three sweaters, dry onshore, looking.

But one fall night, late in a dark archipelago

the waves pulse with light

and no one else will swim

and I find myself walking to belly deep in an explosion of cool embers.

This sea of swimming creatures sparks only with touch—

some secret planktonic celebration.

When I dive, their stars spin off my fingers

Milky ways stir from my arms

And I learn, from traveling among them, that if you spin just right,

You can be a slow comet

a dream.

And you may shiver for an hour after,

And be sticky all night with salt

But you will be warm with the knowing

Of worlds beyond our own

Right here on Earth.

Original art by the author. All rights reserved

6 thoughts on “Slow comet

  1. This is beautiful. I’m not normally a poetry lover (most of it is too pretentious for me) but this … I could stare at this art and read this over and over again.

    Thank you for sharing yourself

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