through the upstairs awning window
a rose colored star, no more than a pinhole —
god, in ye olden days, used a cosmic needle
to stab the skies so that he might reveal the heavens —
clear as day, it spun, until it didn’t.
it became a whole shadow, a hole plugged; dead.
Photo of Author Ella Peters. Photo from Ella Peters.
looking in the mirror
you see your nose is crooked.
did you forget to take off
the new one yesterday night?
did it shift like contacts do as you slept?
is this nose why irene woke you with
“that’s not very cute, ella”?