Coming Home

I dreamt this moment before:
the journey, bending down
to choose another novel,
placing The Voyage Out aside.

I sit face to face
with myself and the sky.
Sunlight, like god, is everywhere
and out of sight. I’m
propelled across a blanket
of white, beneath a flour
crescent bright as ice,
above rectangular fields
and lakes. A hundred tiny
snowflakes, snow crabs,
clutch the heavy window.

Further out, beyond,
the blue blackens to space,
that dusty vacuum, the infinite unknown,
warehouse of gaseous planets
in which Earth’s the lucky marble.

Jake Dennis (Western Australia)
First published on Vibewire

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