
Only distinguishable is the sharp edges
The star my star my sound sleep my smile
Are thousands sharp particle-cuts
Working on those pieces to make the same star -
War-like show I'm playing alone -
My star will never be the same again-
I know unnatural will never be the natural -
I know unnatural will be more irresistible
If it turns fragile I'll crash
Like a walnut between doors.
Atika Cherry is a poet