through struggle to the stars

before you were born,

you scraped per ardua

ad astra onto the inside of your collarbone,

and injected glowing nebulae

in between your vertebrae

because you always loved finding shapes

in star clouds

 

and on your longest days now,

when the heat wraps its loving arms around you

in an embrace you can’t escape,

and the sun lays salty beads across your skin,

you trace your collarbone absently

and draw a little strength out of your spine

 

and you’ll stoop a little more with each passing year,

but that’s okay.

it just means the star stuff did its job right.

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