One evening, cold but fair,
The moon striding its nightly course,
A comet came to rest its head
Beside my bed, a weary rider from his horse.
A phantasm, perhaps? Or vision blur?
A lighted shadow trick of eye?
I could feel its cold, its ice, its heat against my cheek,
an earthbound pilgrim from the sky.
Though in appearance tired and worn,
Its head a’slump, its tail slouched,
It pulsed the room with force and light,
My body bright, its being a heavenly shout.
My body losing its command collapsed.
I could not rise to be its host,
Though I longed to peer into a piece of cosmos.
Would morning dissolve this nighttime ghost?
In the presence of a celestial body
I froze, my desires parting like a wake:
One part longed, one part feared,
My body jeered; was I in dream, or awake?
Though in awe and though in fear
I looked and saw the tired wonder,
And some deep hospitable bone within me rose.
I approached with blankets instead of shudders.
Tucking in this distant body
Like tucking in a nuclear device,
But not unlike tucking in my niece,
I at peace, the gentle hum of comet ice.
My head sank into pillow deep.
The quiet of a comet filled my sleep.
My heart no longer leapt.
Two distant bodies sweetly slept.
Note: I originally wrote this back at the end of 2014 (I think) and later attempted publishing it in a local literary journal. This is the draft I submitted.
