I wish upon this not star


– this chemical spill of interstellar death -


that I will be able to spirit these dead things I carry


these heaviest in my heart dead things


away from me and


catapult them into the outermost reaches of space


so they can suffocate


so they can freeze


so
 
a million memories of you and I and us and ours


can burst into smithereens and finally die


and not have to wane with the everlasting ache


of an infinity of love lost


our life lost


and each particle in a globular cluster of hurt so proud


can be left to wander off


to tumble themselves away


and try to know themselves again


alone


and from nothing


a fire will strike
a star will ignite


and something new will live


and not know what had to die