by Alejandro Escudé
What else could you collect with a sphere
Surrounding a star? In the era of artificiality
And commerce, would it be evidence
Of love? Would it leave a heat signature?
I picture an alien sphere—not metallic
As supposed, but translucent, amorphous,
Twinkling an arthritic light, a series of low-
Frequency whistles. Are there ripe stars
Where you are? Rhyming citadels, chariots
Like half-eaten strawberries? Scientists
Take the pulse of time, they inherit questions
And the questions give birth to universes.
But I wonder about such a powerful warmth
And the results of the search. Is energy
Stored in our marrow? The man himself
Said it would be more a collection of objects.
Like a home? Like most journeys, it might
Prove false evidence of wonder. A god
Unwanted. Light reflected off the bus stop
Bench of a galaxy. As of late, life’s become
A chain of human wrist bones, so we must
Look up and dream of a star-engine that’ll
Reveal the fluttering eyelids of another tribe
Mining the fumes of a celestial volcano.
Alejandro Escudé published his first full-length collection of poems My Earthbound Eye in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches high school English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.
