by Romana Iorga
the stars are frequently out of sync
with the course of your life. tired
perhaps of kissing ass. of being told
what do. how to scythe a path
through the sky. how to blink blink
go dark. if you were a star
you’d resent it too. that bright
existence at a distance from loss.
so much freedom and nothing
to wish for. how you’d welcome
a comet as a sign of imminent death.
an asteroid the size of a bus as the child
you’ll never have. how you’d open
the pit of your stomach to swallow
the waste of the universe. how
you’d liquify it into light.
Originally from Chisinau, Moldova, Romana Iorga lives in Switzerland. She is the author of two poetry collections in Romanian. Her work in English has appeared or is forthcoming in Bellingham Review, Lunch Ticket, American Literary Review, and others, as well as on her poetry blog at clayandbranches.com.