The furthest sky at night is
the ceiling of our dreams,
the enticing soft geometry
of desire, and we know
its brightness, sight unseen.
The frozen stars, the years of light,
of interstellar vacuum, once swirled
with all my childish magic,
but now those future ghosts are gone,
their tinsel’s faded to a glimmer.
Yet when the moon is sweet and full,
an opalescent lark
flutters wings upon my pillow,
and her flame calls out
the burning yesterdays,
the birefringent fires
of my becoming.
Once in the hush of night
I thought I heard her whisper—
You use the gift of your imaginings
to watch Narcissus
as he plucks his eyebrows in the mirror,
but you could see another place,
that still your world might be.
- Poet’s Picnic in Collected Poems of Michael Dransfield (1948-1973), University of Queensland Press, 1993
- discovery of the Proxima b planet which may support life, 4.3 light years distant, nearby and still so far away
- my short story the water moon which appeared in Fantasy Scroll Magazine, where the imaginary moon is a little old-fashioned but a great place for a holiday
the furthest sky, numerical abstract art