Alysse Aallyn

Constellations: Berenice’s Hair – a poem by Alysse Aallyn

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Constellations: Berenice’s Hair

Meteoric dust drips ash
Into my upturned mouth;
I taste stars;
What manner of being are you?
I only know you’re something
That I need. Your

Mirrored endlessness partakes of
Nothing human, yet suggests
Completion. Your shadow arches
Over everything, a lover who
Won’t give satisfaction. I’ll take
The expert titillation

Of your neglect.
Hunger burns so purely in
This atmosphere. Without you
I might be myself; with you
I am nothing. But
Deflation is a lover’s privilege.

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One response to “Constellations: Berenice’s Hair – a poem by Alysse Aallyn”

  1. Doug Avatar
    Doug

    Meteors are a false flag for the oceanic feeling. The ashes are from a foreign planet’s exploding barbecue and sun gone haywire when the party’s over. Endlessness has cycles of inflation and deflation. Lovers for a moment don’t need to know. It’s a top secret of the universe. Nothing is nothing. Something is an acquired taste.

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