My Favourite Star by Bruce McRae

Someone threw a stone

at the almighty darkness.

A chord was struck

and they coloured it blue.

Sky-blue, eye-blue,

blue as capillaries

through a pallid breast.

Night covered our eyes,

except this single spark,

a loosened stitch in nightlife’s finery.

A bee in a sea of black honey.

A flawed perfection.

What the lovelorn wish upon

when their gods won’t answer.

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