Solar System

by Donald Illich

I feel astronomical these days,
a beat of earth mashed with creation,

telling the story of earth and sun.
I recognize this story is unavailable,

that before night crosses the Rubicon,
a failed attempt can slash nothing.

Jupiter, Venus. Some of the shapes I didn’t
know before. These celestial objects

starred though I knew what the Church
sang. I wrote an unfavorable report, Earth

rotates around the sun. I was nervous death
would get in the way. Soon, I’m completed

with bruises, rope yanking me to a chair.
I abjure. I abjure. I say. Now I’m stuck

in my tower. Cracks that make me real.
Body manufactured by the last of the light.


DONALD ILLICH has published poetry recently in The Southern  Review, Gargoyle, and The Louisville Review. His book is Chance Bodies  (The Word Works, 2018). He lives in Maryland.