WHAT’S IN A NAME?
by Carolyn Martin
Day lilies come
and go by the clock.
Evergreens remain.
The devil frog
horrifies.
And there’s
the Milky Way,
the whitish smudge
that, like a toddler
burping up,
spews messy gas
across the universe.
Which leads me to
our micro-galaxy.
In the blur
of everyday,
we’re lovers/
partners/
friends
with an appetite
for constancy
that soaks in
tiffs and blame,
rings out kisses
and regrets.
But what if
we recalibrate?
Let’s call ourselves
excited atoms
on an errant star
shooting through
a dozen Milky Ways –
not caring
where we are –
like reckless
first-borns in
a pre-name paradise.
Or something
close to that.
Gyroscope Review - !2