Once, a child tossed his glitter high
and wondered at the pattern
on a backdrop deepest black
At night, city lights muffle heavens
blocked by towers snug within the smog.
It helps to quiet nature's voice—
the smog, the billboards,
neon pretties and fluorescent lights
that blind the eye to glittered skies.
Above, the fallen gather still
to mourn the wondering man
whose eyes now choose a pixel pattern.
And to mourn Orion, who,
after downing malt liquor with Scorpio,
stumbled into antiquity,
fearful of fate, and collapsed.
Keith E. Sparks Jr.
Copyright © 2004, 2019
Written in 2004, Later appeared in "Facets" 2019
Comments