Larrabee - Two poems

Hannah Larrabee

BETELGEUSE

Astronomers recently observed the dimming of Betelgeuse in the constellation Orion.  It’s been theorized that its supernova event could be seen from Earth even in daylight.

And if it explodes? See, despite all studies

and the infinite, blazing core of feeling,

you will simply witness a signal flare,

even in daylight, something silent and

strange, like our capacity for forgiveness,

and if the gifts all around us are taken

for granted, they will continue to burn

brighter and have you prepared yourself

for what lies at the heart of the word love?

Because I have not and because I have not,

I, too, will blister the sky, all the power and

all the fuel in me collapsing into a darkness

where I was once the bright shoulder

of a thing you mapped out in the sky: Orion,

a human constellation, so no matter where

we were we could feel closer to some kind

of home, which is everything, which is every

single thing in each scenario of every possible

world, and for that you should forgive yourself.

Eastern Skunk Cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus)

I first saw them from a boardwalk, Audubon wetlands, early spring. Now I see them

every morning while I make my coffee, see them blooming along the stream that runs

from the mountains. It’s not exactly pertinent, but I’m also fond of the ground ivy, the

common blue violet, all clustered under the elm that was trimmed late fall. What would I

do without all

this to do and my time becoming something of an imprint on this place? I’m falling apart

and making all these little things happen that I’m proud of—it makes no sense. I’m wild

as the bulbous mottled flower of the swamp lettuce crouched behind its upright leaves.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of; it’s just less interested in the sun and more interested in

the earth. This I understand; I like to feel one thing completely. Sometimes love builds

despite disguise or whatever is prudent—love clear as a tealight on a table. We are

looking for equilibrium, so is the swamp lettuce. I have my hands in the earth and the

earth of coffee

in my mouth and I look at something living and wonder what it likes. I won’t ask. But I

have asked in the past and never regretted it. I have asked and worn lingerie under a

shirt and tie.

I am always reaching with leaves from a body of lust.