Hole-Punched Constellations

Hole punch black construction paper
Make myself a halo from destruction
Childhood Lite Brite concentration
Pixels on the television
In patterns we trust.

Constellations cursing us
Everything we’re missing:
The distant digital connections
The lit key we never press
The void of daily expirations

Random constellations
Too intricate for mortals to design:
String through wormhole
Well of the frontal lobe
Light off on a passing pole

Pattern is a matter of proportions
And hope, a series of misfortunes

© 2022 | K.Hartless


All of my students were given the day off to celebrate Diwali today. This is the first time for such things here, and I must say it was wonderful to see a culture other than the mainstream be celebrated. Ah, the inter-conectedness of things. That’s what this poem attempts to contemplate, and while I didn’t see the light, I still believe in new stars to wish upon and renewed dreams.

Happy Diwali!

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