To Capture Her Dancing Light
I thought him safe on his side of the equator, under his own
stars, only to hear his step upon the stair; missed
the thimble and pricked my finger, dripping a small spot of blood
on the linen story stretched and hooped in my lap. This time
it seems he's brought a telescope, a three-legged stand to mount
it on low enough that I might peer within and scan the sky.
I thought I'd cured him of bringing me presents that offered
fake release. Celia skips close to his side, as he directs
my eye towards a story, written, no doubt by someone else's bloodied
fingers, with yarn and needle or gut and hide. "I was on the other
side of the meridian when it occurred to me," he said, his hand
resting lightly on my shoulder, "that if I left that day
I could sail back to you in time to catch these stars in your sky."
And surely, in the quadrant of black he'd trained the instrument
to focus upon, I saw the shape of a tiny kite. "There, the brightest,
she reminds me of you. Her name is Alcyone. The others
are her sisters. Some say they leap the back of the Taurean
bull towards the arms of Orion the hunter, for love or to claim
the diamond bounty of his belt. What do you think Alice?
What do you see in the sky?" And I, hearing the tap, tap, tap
of my little sister's impatient feet said, "I see bounty
to be claimed, and hopes that might soar but will eventually
dip back below the horizon from which they have sprung.
Or perhaps I see the idea of flight tethered to a singular star,
locked outside the arms of any watcher who could connect her
with other dots, chart her pattern and make her truly, luminous.
You must excuse me though, I've hurt my finger. I really should
find some iodine and a bandage." As I turned to roll
towards my room, I glimpsed my sister as she fit her eye
to the waiting scope, greedy for a story and a promise. Slowly,
she inched her foot a bit closer to his on the floor.
