a little star becomes a starry wheelÂ
  rolling in huge silence   toward us
announced by meteoric childrenÂ
    flashing to nobody’s rescueÂ
the catastropheÂ
will be continuous
      too big to be felt
thinking  I don’t want to
the bride approaches glittering Â
    speechless
later she’ll wonder   must everyÂ
                wedding be a bloodbath
Â
spidersilk plus cosmic debris equalsÂ
      cobweb   veil of andromeda
      spiraling from interplanetary cloud
               into her room
brightly particulateÂ
in slanted lightÂ
     dust in the clouded eye     Â
                 of told you so
eye that sees
     mother trail bright wavesÂ
            across her wrist   no oneÂ
                 more beautiful   all mothersÂ
say these things    but mother not       Â
where the gods can hear
that’s how you end up wheelingÂ
      upside down   through heaven
             nailed to your glittery throne
. . .
clink of chainsÂ
andromeda’s monster rises Â
         where the sea roars & whitens
                  time for the sacred wedding
or feast
perhaps the god thinksÂ
it will be a treat for himÂ
but what can he do, Cetus
with this little breathing thing
              finless   earthy   no partÂ
                           of his usual diet
someone should ask if he might ratherÂ
    sink        silent as the bride
                      into the starless deep      Â
. . .
       already andromedaÂ
   shone like a droppedÂ
    earring
    over the departuresÂ
      of certain huge animals
  slow-moving   dusty as old rugsÂ
leaving a remnant bitternessÂ
    of wild cousins   missing
                their phantom familiars
osage orange   honeylocust  coffeetreeÂ
      all this puzzling unsweetness    Â
     is only fidelity to extinctÂ
     desire   the austere preferenceÂ
             of vanished monsters                                Â
apple will you grow bitterÂ
 without your beesÂ
    your bears   gorging on windfall
        in abandoned orchards
what is a word for Â
 animals that wish
. . .
she wishes to haveÂ
a serious belief in the timely approachÂ
of the winged bridegroom
    spiraling down   Â
 meteoric flash of his shield
eyes closed   waving the fatal head     Â
 he’ll say don’t look
      and she won’t
Click here to read Martha McCollough on the writing of this poem:
Image: “Cop” by Jordi Cucurull, licensed under CC 2.0
- Greylock Glen - November 19, 2021
- Andromeda - May 5, 2020
- Erinys - April 29, 2020