A Lack of Stars
With its head hung over
the road, the street lamp sputters
a blue-white light, muttering
some sort of apology
into the semi-darkness. Above,
the city lights hold the cosmos
in check.
Only a handful of stars can hope
to glitter in the eternal space,
a few grains of salt tossed
up towards the moon, who,
as usual, has no say in the matter.
As the cars creep along
in the hour they call rush,
remnants of things once cherished
gaze up from the gutter
into the wishless sky, wondering
who has gone
and put the Milky Way to sleep.
Morning Dog
for Ozzie, of course
In bed, the dog and I
are gerrymandered
across the mattress
arms and legs splayed
attached hip to hip
part of me hung over the edge
his comfort my only concern.
Awake far earlier than I wish,
soon we’ll rise
and make our way outside
to catch the moon
waning and gibbous,
its white face flung over
an arching scrub pine preaching
to the western sky.
We’ll watch the sun yawning
in the east, crows launching
their morning hellos over
and beyond all our troubles.
I’ll stumble my way on an uneven path,
my wrist bobbing along with his leash,
tired and worn down
by too much to mention.
But in this moment, as I listen
for the rise and fall of his breath
in a bed too small for a yellow Lab
who needs to stretch as much
as he needs me near,
I’m learning how to pray
in the church of the Now.
Anne Rankin's poems have appeared in The Healing Muse, Hole in the Head Review, Passager, Scapegoat Review, MacQueen's Quinterly, Atlanta Review, Comstock Review, Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. Her poem "Small Primer on Loneliness" received Honorable Mention at the Belfast Poetry Festival 2021.
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