(poem) Canis Minor
(This poem is part of the Night Sky anthology - a project where I write poems titled after the 88 IAU constellations. This poem was written sometime in 2021.)
We turn the taps on,
Stand under the showerheads,
Hot water, steaming,
We draw dreams in vapours,
We wipe ourselves off,
Sweat, blood,
Sometimes tears,
Pull our socks up,
Let our shoes graze the grass,
Fly high,
Drop low,
See our dreams settle,
In the morning,
As mist, as dew,
We go to our beds at night,
Ruffle our pillows just right,
Strain our brows as we dream,
And look forward to the fight,
We have seen giants,
We have witnessed their smiles,
Hanging in air, necks bent,
Like looking at worms at their wit's end,
The dawn breaks,
Rays like selvage at the seams,
We gather, fog-laden,
Huddled together for heat,
We look at our coach walk about,
Screaming wrenching truths,
We watch him go about,
Screaming lies,
Lies like one would lie to a houseplant,
Watering it,
Calling it rain.
(The constellation Canis Minor refers to a small dog, a hunting dog in the myth, but an underdog here.)