Donovan James | Eclipse | poetry Light minute long geometry Coalesces, To cast a satellite sized shadow, Across an organic spaceship. Filaments of solar flares, Dance upon blades Of grass, Cats scatter across living room floors, Dogs whimper and nuzzle hands To assuage inarticulate fears, While humans find comfort in theories And equations, Analogous to their ancestors finding peace In stories and myth, “The Sun God Will Return,” & “Equations predict the eclipse Will last 45 seconds.” Human syntax wrapped around Bottomless concepts, Transmuted into distinct grunts and clicks. “Just enjoy it,” She says, eyes peering upwards, “You don’t have to analyze everything.” Her fingertips intertwined in mine Gift an almost imperceptible squeeze, Those eyes that haunt And inspire, Encased in Black hole glasses, Watching the original god Disappear.
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