When I was little,
my parents told me that when someone
leaves this world,
they become a star.
So I would peer into the night sky,
naming every dot I could find
after someone I had lost.
There was Grandpa
and cousin Kim,
Fufu the rabbit
and Lucky the cat.
Now, I place less stock
in the spiritualism of the cosmic specks,
but admire them still, all the same.
I love stars,
but I could never be an astronomer.
Because to me,
they are these wonderful, otherworldly things
and I know that the science behind them
would just ruin it all for me.
So I’m happy like this,
blissfully unaware of the interworkings
of the universe’s dust.
I’m happy like this,
leaving a little sliver of magic
for myself
in this world…