Bio Note: I am a Midwestern high school teacher and Poetry Club advisor. My students and I have been actively involved in 100,000 Poets for Change. I serve on the board of the Council for Wisconsin Writers and I am English language editor for Poetry Hall: A Chinese and English Bilingual Journal.
Midnight Screening of the Aurora Borealis
Midnight light-dreams dawn— green is the solar song of Morpheus blown earthward, rippling curtains of color drawn back by angles of snow geese, their wingtips dipped in dark arts, to reveal the silver of a silent screen in an art deco movie palace. The Little Tramp dines on his shoe at the top of the world. At the top of the clock a somnambulist strolls through off-kilter streets like your dad, the way he shadowed himself along the streets of your childhood, along the streets of your evolving metropolis. The way he finally came to craft for you a refined city of cardboard. My people once looked to the sky. Rising from the damp earth my grandfather climbed ladders to telescopes on frigid nights. Let’s say the sun is its own mind. Let’s say the sun needs the body of Gaia to dream a multiverse of possibilities, needs the clenched magnetic field to exhale at its axes allowing earth and sun, their many children, to forge dreams of midnight light.
©2022 Sylvia Cavanaugh
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