Maria Zajkowski

Discovered through new and newer telescopes,
a passion, a success, a nebula of messages,
but instead you look there,
over the waves, for a boat with a sail and a chicory mast,
the last place you thought you were.

Stars form and under the slip of your eye a gathering takes place.
Out beyond your fingertips you reach for the rest of you,
part there, part here.

On a night sea cliff the moon runs away from your child heart,
inside you a small shadow circles around,
compressed by unreachable lights
and that which should never tame itself to be approached.