i could break beneath the weight of

atmosphere.

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

hemisphere

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.