Hide the Stars

I changed a bit of the poem from what I originally circled, and the punctuation is different, but I tried to keep it close.

Hide the Stars

a poem found in Galileo’s “Assayer”

by William Abernathy

that if we look through flames at people,
we shall see
quite plainly. Did it never enter your head
a flame between the eye and some star…
Surely there is no lack of
a skillful and prudent ex-
perimentalist?

the comet’s flame is like our flames,
a different natre,
our flames are not conclusive.
look at stars
and left out candle-snuffs,

You are obliged to kindle
and to make us see:
I shall be
much less. far away
I am satisfied
In place of the thickness.

to be seen gains an advantage–
let it be one of the stars
through the tail of the comet
brighter than any flame.

And now,
make the star visible
among the most prudent,
But if you fail:
silence, by which
I hope will now take place.

Just Sitting There

Just sitting there

(Inspired by the line “the things you accidentally do” which I heard one day sitting in class)

 

When we finished I signed the contract with a cigarette,

Not noticing the fine print, I thought how nice our names looked together.

The things you accidentally sign, just sitting there.

 

You’re in for a treat, the doctor said, you’re pregnant,

One of the fringe benefits of my deal showing its head.

The things you accidentally learned, just sitting there.

 

His reason for leaving seemed contrived, some hidden bylaw I overlooked,

He forgot to clear it through management, but I didn’t bring it up.

The things you accidentally let slip by, just sitting there.

 

Aunt Lacey called and asked for a status report,

I hesitated with the subject header: “self-pity.”

The things you accidentally indulge, just sitting there.

 

Mom wanted to fly in from the East and consult,

But I told her business hours were over.

The things you accidentally ignore, getting tired of sitting there.

 

The project deadline arrived and found me—you guessed it—just sitting there.

Mom flew in to oversee the transition period.

Mom, Aunt Lacey thedoctorandI held a conference

Crammed together in my cubicle as I struggled to produce.

The engineers said the machines were properly configured, and

The guys down at PR began prepping a press release, and

My computer printed but there was a paper jam, so

IT suggested I push harder.

 

Finally the prototype of my labor, a little heir

With a simple title and a blank page (intentionally),

Helpless no longer, I held him to me, and together we sat there.