Through the window, washes
on a watercolor planet,
rainy autumn shades in spring, and
in the early evening, scattered photon showers
are forecast, a luminous return of light
from the shadow sun.
Indoors there are smaller mysteries,
trailing motes in negative space—
leaving lamps and bulbs,
domesticities and peripherals,
drawn out between the curtains
to the shadow sun.
My exploration of the planetary surface
is tentative and random.
What could be the purpose of this
orthogonal gridding, these streets, these corners,
so much symbolic signage?
Is poesy any use at all?
I record a few dimensions
with my laser measure
and come across Célia at the coffee shop.
In cases of a close encounter
regulations must be followed.
I’m sure I have them somewhere
in the pockets of my shrink wrap rain gear.
All I find is the height in centimeters
of a solar obelisk measured on my journey,
and coffee cards, dog eared with one stamp,
the Célia card as well.
What will I do now?
Here, take this map
and follow its directions.
(I must have asked out loud
when I thought I’d only typed rhetorically.)
I trace the arrows sketched around the streets.
This loop is closed, it leads me back
to the coffee shop
You’ll need more guidance,
a cappuccino too,
I’ll be here when you return.
Could we talk about the shadow sun?
The concept makes me nervous.
Any physicist would have concerns about a shadow sun, drawing in light and re-emitting it. It doesn’t worry me though.
Danta in Black has appeared in Chappy Fiction’s ‘Time Travel Tales’ anthology and it’s now on Amazon (Kindle and kindling formats). The antho consists of twenty stories, including New York Times best sellers and authors who are Hugo and Nebula Award winners. Continues →
artwork the tower