On the Other Side of the Stars
I looked for one stitch
of sorry—one white regret.
In that blue field I searched
for a little beauty,
some lovely disorder.
On one side the stars lined up
in staggered, orderly rows
like inmates in a blue yard,
like kills tallied on a tailfin.
I turned it over, but one side
was just like the other:
none of the doubt or wonder
that comes when you lie down
at night in an open field,
and stare up into the sky—
mostly dark, spangled with stars.
—Matthew Murrey