The Comet
We watched it for weeks:
two lovers, one comet
shedding its skin in a single tear
drop burning cold in the night sky.
The astronomers promised us
that the moment would return…
in a few hundred years,
which is, of course, standard for comets.
And yet—we’d sit there,
my arms curled around your waist,
your reddish cheeks never too cold to kiss—
we live just this once.
And when finally it disappeared,
the slow arc complete above the world,
we had a choice:
Keep looking for marvels in faraway skies
or make our magic here
on Earth.
~~
1991-1993
This poem is part of a collection titled The Longing of God for God.
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