I’m tired of hearing about stars
let’s write about gravel, martian man, let’s write about Earth
let’s write about the woman in cubicle 34 who stashes coconut candies in her bottom drawer
and landscape photos in the top
let’s write about the boy who hooked his first fish today
and cried when he saw it push back against the nylon
his uncle patted him on the shoulder as he watched something die for the first time
let’s write a eulogy for every sore back and stiff neck, for every date that didn’t end in a kiss
for the men who still cry with the door locked
and cover their smiles in their palms
or maybe a ballad for all the girls peering up at those silver lenticular screens
and seeing their reflections for the first time
let’s write about everyone and everything,
air filters, and bees and mason with the buzzcut
one lullaby for the cramped hands of a poet
one haiku for the crumbs on your keyboard
maybe even a narrative or two about now
about handshakes and news stations and digital apologies
about the children in cages who have been stolen from us
write about those dark-eyed explorers, conquering the Sonoran Desert
only to be borne back ceaselessly by upturned chins and scared eyes
let’s write about each other
because as pretty as the stars are, as worthy of our love letters they may seem
they will never write us back
romaincrisis
snowghoul
origamiaround
baratheonpilled
