It’s happening again, the sun
going down and I almost
forget to pay attention—but then feel
rumbling in my optic nerve, my lower
spine tightens. I fan the pages
of this book faster and faster,
float it in a tub to loosen
the hold darkness is taking, seldom
think to go for a candle, but roll
flat under the looming wheel
of shadow. All planets
at all times are half light, half
dark. Give me the words to say
the truth that the sun does not set
nor rise and never has. We
orbitters ride bareback,
nose or heels first, rolling along into it,
we rise toward and fall
away, squinting ducks on time’s carnival
target hoping light hits
and scores and someday
takes our blue stuffed souls home.
~
Feature image: Solar System quilt by Ellen Harding Baker, 1876, used by Baker to assist with her astronomy lectures
