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Grey Sparrow Journal

Issue 30, July 31, 2017
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Away from the lights of the house


 

The stars draw nearer

until they tilt the night tree,

fruits hanging low on branches.

 

They are the same stars

my grandmother saw as a girl,

and her grandmother before,

and her great-grandmother.

 

I feel one with them

and with the first woman

who walked out of her house

into this dark dome,

thousands of years ago,

 

and named the stars

The Hen and Chicks,

The Big Carriage,

The Shepherd’s Star,

The Dog.

 

She filled the yard of the sky

with domestic animals and birds,

 

and the yard screeched

when it turned,

like a rusty wheel,

with the shrill of crickets.

 

She must have wondered,

as I do tonight,

is it another woman up there?

 

Is she looking at me

with watery eyes,

 

her neck stretched

in the darkness

to see me?


                  —Claudia Serea