divination for the divine

By: Alrisha Shea

look at them,
so cavalier, drinking
future-liquor in a future-

                bar kissing the wounds
                of future-lovers and
                crisscrossing their future-

look at them,
so ambiguous, with

                their they/them body
                and name and
                baggy clothes. look at

them, going to future-coffee
shops just to hear a barista say
their name and believe each syllable. look

                at the sky with its
                gaping-wide pupils in
                its switched role with

our globe now neon
gleaming and bloodbright.
we are the light we see.

                we are
                the light we see. we are all
                asterism now, not the prim

& proper of
constellation. we are
starless and proud, stellar

                pollution be damned to hell
                with the rest of them. we
                cannot decide between light-

-house or
lampshade, but what’s the difference? sleepy
pattern-finder, rest your desperate

                eyes; there are no constellations left
                to reach for – the whole astral

has spun apart, the sky
our idols saw is gone. there
are no stars left to see, there is

no new zodiac,

and thank god for that.