heaven in the southern hemisphere

By: Carli Plymale

i could break beneath the weight of
these stars, balanced atop my head
are heavier than the sun,
lending their light
across a universe, a lifetime
to shatter my insides in their silence.
the ground has already crumbled,
soft and cold between my toes
stilled and pliant
under the sky’s watchful hands.
they ache, cold and raw
here where the world turns in reverse
heaven in
the southern
here, where long lost stories
pierce through darkness
as if they’d just been born—
here, where only dull beams of firelight
can illuminate july’s winter—
here, where my heart beats
to watch the sky expand—
i have never felt so small.
distantly, laughter quakes
with a presence i cannot meet;
my fingers tremble
silent in their recognition
of why
humanity, in all its innovation
once thought this sky
the home of gods.