Falling to Earth
Falling past Andromeda
a precision vector makes
Alpha Centauri blur,
Arcturus recede;
flesh and bone press inward
— no breath.
A slow somersault turns
the craft to face Canopus
and carries her, drifting,
immune to the attractions of
Betelgeuse, Capela, Vega,
tumbling her helpless course;
crushed and numb
— no blood.
What transgression brought
this endless withering decline,
graced by lawful symmetry?
Sirius looms bright,
nascent in ardent desire
to stay this fall;
but judgement prevails
and dwindling continues
— no pulse.
Did Ulysses look to this sky marker
as he steered his wandering course?
Was this the light that
guided Penelope's unweaving?
This grain of fragrant light
in its pre-destined descent
— falling to the dark earth.
This poem names the seven brightest stars in the sky.
© 1999 Gillian B King.
