Vacant Constellations

Haley Karin

At twelve I saw no beauty in well-lit adults


How they stargazed 

next to their children 

licking summer popsicles 

down to splintered wood,         knowing 

that stars made of myth

and sheltered in science

could shine long after light leaves 


It’s         really   for the     best           

                                                              they say, 


                                            I am happy   with       all          this         space


              even though tears         freeze 


                             on their cheeks and 


                                                         their laughter 

                             doesn’t make 


                                           the right sound and


                             pane after pane the darkness drifts on       


                                                         and on


                                           inside the galaxies 


                                                                        of these ink-bled homes




                                                                                                                                 and         un-ending 

Haley Karin is an intersectional feminist, poet, and proposal writer for a non-profit organization in Northern California, where she lives with her boyfriend and their kitten Cosmo. She earned her B.A in English from California State University, Sacramento in 2015 and her poems have been published by The Tule Review, 805 Lit + Art, Burrow Press, and The Sacramento Voices Anthology. In 2017 her piece “Cover Girl” was selected as a finalist for the Fortnight Prize by Eyewear Publishing Ltd. In 2018 her poetry was nominated for Best of the Net and The 2020 Pushcart Prize. You can follow her social media handle @poetrybyhaley to keep up with her latest news.

©2018 HighShelfPress. 

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