Construction Literary Magazine

Fall 2019

From The Book of the Memory of the Stars

From <i>The Book of the Memory of the Stars</i>
Photograph via Flickr by Mark Richards

I broke, and then was held together at the soul with a paperclip.
My mother and father destroy the universe in my name. They do not
own a house. They eat
leg of lamb, leg of wolf, leg of bone.

In high school, I was captain of the stargazing squad.
3 times, the sun was a star.
My freshman year the sun was famous.
(dec, march, june): I was the famous sun, but

to this I now admit: I am not the sun. I
try & remember that time when in high school the sky held the sun like a baby. I
get out The Book of the Memory of the Stars, written in the blood
of the paperclipped soul. Somewhere above me, like a mosquito, the
Angel of Mercy hovers, drooling on my shoulder. The
abusive light of the stars suckles, suckles, suckles. And the long dead
[members of my stargazing squad
appear on my shoulder
holding umbrellas, eating
leg of lamb, leg of wolf, leg of God; chanting with
their mouth’s full,
the names of my parents, the names of the stars, consummating the]
relationships we have with ourselves, they sing.