with a nod to Charles Wesley
Houston’s night sky glows like the silver scythe
of a jet’s wing as it catches dawn’s rays
when all I want is stars. If I see celestial light
despite the city’s glare, I remember the galaxy
over New Mexico’s mountains, how the Milky Way
opened a kaleidoscope of amber, pink, and purple.
I know that light comes from the dead
husks of stars the way the hymns
I learned from my mother arrive unbidden,
songs I hum while driving through traffic
when the sun’s rays shatter me awake
or while sweeping the living room floor.
Sometimes I sing, Love divine,
all loves excelling. Sometimes, I forget the dead.
–
Rebecca Danelly holds an MFA from Texas State University and is co-editor of poetry at table//Feast Mag. She has poems in numerous journals and anthologies. She is a USAF veteran who resides in Houston on former Akokisa, Atakapa, Karankawa, and Sana land and teaches college writing at the University of Houston – Downtown.