Starlight: 2 Acts by Kathryn Sadakierski

There is the most lovely, forlorn cloudsong

Of orange-gold purple-pink

In the skies still haunted

By the footprints snow left

In dizzying swirls

Like the ballet of butterflies

Through air diaphanous as soap bubbles,

Plièing through filaments of frost

In the humble, faint needlepoint stitchings of trees

With prematurely sugared leaves.

Tracks have been so deeply pressed

In the snow-dusted dirt

Where we walked, in our same circles

Every night, 

When the cold is too much

For even the pantheon of stars to bear,

Those friends and relatives gathered 

Around the dinner table, talking 

About what’s on the stage below,

Before the curtain of morning is drawn

And they exit the theater,

Murmuring about the show they saw. 


The sun, a bored duchess,

Somnolent, indolent,

Sprawls on a dais

That lowers to the ground as she readies

For bed, taking one final glance

In her looking glass, the lake

That feeds her vanity.

With a final gaping yawn and stretch,

She tucks herself in under the coverlets

Of stars, the moon

A valance above her four-poster bed,

And, sometimes, a pillow

On which to rest her head, a translucent cheek

Turned as she sinks into the eiderdown duvet

Of grass ebonied by nightfall,

The moon a nightlight churning 

Kaleidoscope colors

Until all is opal.

Kathryn Sadakierski is a 22-year-old writer whose work has been published in anthologies, magazines, and literary journals around the world, including Blue Marble Review, Halfway Down the Stairs, October Hill Magazine, Northern New England Review, seashores: an international journal to share the spirit of haiku, Snapdragon: A Journal of Art and Healing, The Scriblerus, Tomorrow and Tomorrow, Toyon Literary Magazine, Yellow Arrow Journal, and elsewhere. She graduated summa cum laude with a B.A. and M.S. from Bay Path University in Longmeadow, Massachusetts.

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