Starsoft

If you’d told me before now,
I’d have said no–
You’re wrong.

Stars aren’t soft.
They don’t spiral down from the sky
slowly, in billions.

Stars don’t sparkle
like infinite crystals,
don’t pile in pillowy drifts.

I’d have told you
stars are hard and sharp
made of rock too hot, too big to hold.

I’d have told you
stars don’t softly kiss your cheeks
or sprinkle themselves on your clothes.

I’d have told you
stars are already dead
when we see their light.

But I’m wrong.
My cheeks are kissed by soft stars,
my booted toes are littered with sparkles.

They may be less sparkly,
they may even melt,
but the stars are alive as they glimmer and kiss and caress me.

I’m wrong.
You’re right.
These stars are soft.

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