Etoile, I glimmer in silence
beneath sloping conifers—I read
your love in distant notebooks,
I carry a flame to hold you close.
Etoile, I sleep in the fire and breathe in the smoke.
I echo ghostly plumes in the shadow of rain—
I dance in the light
of your constellation of lovers, they no longer send
summer jonquils through the rafts of your home.
Etoile, I will disappear like the rest—
they will fade into a soporific mist,
weary of their attempts to avoid diminishing.
I will jump into the abyss
as a supernova, erupting in ancient skies:
the despair of destruction is worth catching your eye.
Sammy Bellin grew up outside of Pittsburgh and now calls Lewisburg his home. His poetry appears or is forthcoming in Rust & Moth, wildscape. literary journal, Barely South Review, Sontag Mag, Crab Apple Literary, Shot Glass Journal, and more. He likes to buy more books than he can read. His cat’s name is Freya. You can find him on Instagram @sammyabellin.