Comets “leave behind a dusty trail of rocks and ice that lingers in space long
after they leave.” –The New York Times
You once filled my night sky.
Now, through the trees at moonlight
I search for your green-gray eyes
in faraway ice crystals,
your white hair in the comet’s tail.
And these rocks on my path
chipped with stars of mica and quartz—
were they left over from your journey
through the solar system?
Shards from constellations you helped create?
I keep looking for you in them, everywhere.
In your trail between planets and asteroids,
the opaque cumulus clouds on a bright day.
Then at night I climb Orion’s Belt,
travel below the horizon to the southern sky
I wake and remember
that you escaped into incandescence.
My memories have become your last breath,
rocks, ice, stardust.