beneath a speckle

beneath a speckled sky
of constellations
I watch a meteor
flash by
without a second glance

it streaks
a birthday-sparkler line
drawn in an arc
towards the south horizon
past the ending of this world

spinning on its axis
in a sweeping bend
that circles laps
around the star
we call the sun
but get no answers

it seems no-one is home
between saturday and sometime
next week somewhere

across the galaxy
is wide
perhaps it needs
a special wave-length
but I am restricted by my reach

can only cup my hand
towards the streak of light
that’s gone almost
before I’ve blinked
out of existence
the creation of a tear

© Frank Prem, 2009


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