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  • Writer's pictureBethany Stimac

ardor for a star

Updated: Jan 23, 2023

about to descend from the kitchen

into my dark, bedroom burrow

but you interrupt me, softly

by catching my eye.

dripping through the windows,

dancing on the floor,

on my face—

your warm tongue of light tastes

everything of day,

licking the leaves of trees

and the pink of my palms.

i have no choice but to lift my gaze

to meet you.

i could never look down on you.

you must be god.

and i am not adam,

but an atom—

beyond microscopic in the universe.

look at the colossal beings of the sky.

futures away—

they are of the past, today.

and i don’t exist.

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