Board Meeting at Midnight




I’ve called you here tonight, tiny soldiers,
to insure my investment in the happiness
day denies me.
For forty-some years I’ve called you stars,
called you heaven, called you mine, but
I’m sure you hear that often.
But has anyone called you the empire that
you are--conquerors, striking, but never
touching the earth?
You rule the spirit-hunters, those who
don’t find their dreams in sleep, but
with open eyes and open wings, fly
high in your glassy shower.
And did anyone mention that this handful
of crystal pollen seen afloat in this one
small corner of the night’s black wrath
rules the universe,
reigns supreme?
Because you have the power to stir a planet,
yes, insomniacs like me.
And I don’t think I mentioned,
fragile dancers,
living tear
drops that sting my loyal eyes,
that I am no corporate titan, no god
of dust and fading worlds,
but under your scattered angel-glow
I sit among kings.


© Patricia Joan Jones