We said we would rest
only for a moment,
water the horses and return to the fields.
But then the stars descended,
peering through the smoke of our fire
and the dust of the prairie
so you suggested we lay down,
accept the clarity of the skies
for the gift that it was.
But I could not keep my focus
on the comets
and the constellations.
My mind wandered instead
to the space between us, lingering on lips
that named stars I’d never seen
and as you mapped the sky
with your callused hands,
I saw the shining of your eyes
and I realized you belonged there,
lightyears from the ground
and the grime between us.
Emily Uduwana is a poet, short fiction author, and graduate student based in Southern California. When she isn’t writing or studying, she can be found watching Netflix with her husband and a grumpy little dog named Percy.