Celestials

Jarrett Osborn

How’s the saying go, isn’t it an echo or a stain
But words get telephoned, caught up in some other’s long refrain
Heavens catch your gaze, barter for your faith, how pretty the horizon

How far does it go, the unintended consequence of sight
Caught up in the throes, of guessing who is wrong and who is right
The bodies in ellipse, a shadow in eclipse, always looking skyward