A Small, Obscure Spot

by Sam Rasnake


                      Messier 11, Gottfried Kirch, 1681

    On a night such as
    this one -- the waning
    crescent dropped
    down in the West
    -- cartographers do
    their deepest work:
    right ascension,
    declination -- and
    the heart hunts
    its dark field.
    Wild ducks sweep
    out of the far
    and cold, warming
    your face, your
    breathing, my hand
    on your shoulder,
    this ache.

                      for Mary


    Copyright © 2003, Sam Rasnake
M11, the Wild Duck Cluster

M11, the Wild Duck Cluster


Sam Rasnake's poetry, widely published, has appeared in Literal Latté, Switched-on Gutenberg, Portland Review, One Trick Pony, nycBigCityLit, Lilliput Review, and Poem. He is the author of one chapbook, Religions of the Blood (Pudding House) and one collection, Necessary Motions (Sow's Ear Press). When not trying to master the deep pools of King Crimson, Chao-chou, and Elizabeth Bishop, he edits Blue Fifth Review, an online poetry journal.

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Image courtesy of the NASA Image of the Day Gallery