Gone Star-Catching

Reaching out a mitten-covered hand towards

the sky, she began to untangle

hastily-strewn stars that hung

together on tight, invisible strings.

(So messy, she would say.)

Deciding that rather than

cutting up paper stars at home,

she'd walk into crisp night air

and catch one of her own.

(But no one will believe her.)

Cupping the star close

to her heart, she remembered long

car rides to her grandmother's house,

the moon only a sticker that she could

peel off the canvas called sky

and place secretly in worn jeans.

(And the gentle shifting of memories.)

It was the story of the stars and the moon,

and it was not until when she herself

became a constellation, did she feel

utterly infinite.

(It was all that she needed.)