Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Issue Thirty-two
Summer 2013
For My Daughter. Born During a Hurricane
Andrew Aulino

Because I worry all
you’ll ever know of stars
is the burn of trash and asbestos
across a black city,

the blowout of coal-seams
your experience of sun;

because I will be an old man then,
the sky strange to me
opaque and livid,
as if full of muscle;

because that sky will be so close,
we both will fear it,
hide from it in the
beetle-husks of what had been an apartment;

because “moon” in those days
must be foreign to you,
dragging the seas
pulling you and all other women
by the womb
with caustic line
a god again
for an unsavory faith;

because anyway what stone
could shine unseen
above our heads
I call you Diana, in memory.

About Andrew Aulino

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