Posted by ideomancer on Jun 1st, 2011 in poetry, Vol. 10, Vol. 10 Issue 2 | 1 comment
the grasping fortune-seekers,
the reckless lovers of your wildness.
We could not hold you close
against all the unconquered blackness of space.
We were so young, and had not learned
the singular preciousness
of unattainable things.
How were we to know
that when we had had you
tame as a lover, the paths to your orbit
worn as grooves in uncaring space,
that desire would vanish with the poison
in your air, and indifference fall with rain?
We could not have imagined the lure
of faces yet more red and distance,
like dawns to leave a lover in.
We did not mean to break your iron heart.
the young, unknowing,
reckless conquerors of your wildness.
We could not see past your beauty.
Megan Arkenberg is a student in Wisconsin. Her work has appeared in Beneath Ceaseless Skies, Fantasy Magazine, Strange Horizons and Clarkesworld. She procrastinates by editing the online magazines Mirror Dance and Lacuna.
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