The fall of a stem-cell star
This is the way our story goes under. Either worry
or lack of it. Both precision & pace. The Earth expands
daily & if that doesn't refute Amy's fall out of love,
or Brian's cat killing its first mouse,
or scientists' discovery of bittersweet
in the '90s, (well).
This is my half of the city. Either this arm
or disarm. Both the trapdoor & the door.
A film ends with snowfall like a song ends with
it's all right, because every time we are comforted,
we were disturbed, because every two hours it snows,
because every kiss is a breath when it misses.
This is the swollen arc of our passion. Either too much
forgiveness or too much at stake. Both the occasion
& the bruise. A man clones a dog & his art
reaches new heights, the sky no longer faceless,
the woman undissolved from her luminous ether,
her dress finally red, her heart finally found
in his traces of a world at large.
Sam Donsky is an aspiring poet and a creative-writing major at the University of Pennsylvania, where he is currently in the midst of his junior year.
"The fall of a stem-cell star" appeared in the Inquirer on Monday, January 2, 2006.