Astropoetica: Southern Cross, by Carri M. Campanile

We all have our own names
for stars
I claim the southern hemisphere
cupped temple dome
crux crowned
those distant, furiously burning cores
etched against the backs of my eyes

I whisper each emission frequency
and shift, transmute
replacing
mere light, vibration
with names of those
that I have
loved

and though those that I have
stolen names from
may have slipped from my fingers
may be distant, unreachable
may be enclosed in my arms now
they too
are etched in my core
and I, like stars,
have given up my name
for theirs

Carri Campanile is a writer and artist from Tampa, Florida. Recent publications include The Journal of Speculative Fiction and Pyramid Literary Journal. She is an enthusiastic amateur astrologer and a general science-fetishist. Her work in IT and design is unobtrusive enough to give her time to obsess over mythology, genetics and epic poetry; including trying to find a way to combine them all successfully. She can be visited at www.carricampanile.com.