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Kalahari campsite
In the Kalahari night we wonder at stars –
above us so far, so many, all indelible –
we think we’re underneath them, they’re in space and time
beyond us, we’re small and fleshy and they are adamantine
but then immediately it’s raining stars, it’s shooting stars
the whole world is stars and nothing else
desert dunes, red sand, wild cats on killing raids
brown-backed hyena at the fire’s burnt remains
an owl’s alarm call, the pattern of ants across stone
they’re all stars, and we too are stars
we glitter, we rotate, we fall away
we are nothing, there is nothing, but stars
From Seasonal Fires: Selected and New Poems (Seven Stories Press, 2006)
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