REBECCA BALL

 

although (/ because)

 

although (/ because) the forum guy called them 
bullet holes I see my six belly wounds as stars

not five-point yellow ones but exploding balls of hot gas
and light self-gravitational and elemental

three burning over my stitched-up stomach three
more over the soft dark space left by my womb

at night when they pulse and prickle I picture blue
sparks of hydrogen and helium under the sheets

I search a name for them and it’s Castor clutching
the outstretched hand of his brother Pollux

in the pale light of my phone I read that Castor’s six
stars are three spectroscopic binaries

pairs of stars so close together even the most powerful
telescopes cannot see them separately

and that only by magnifying the shape of their light
can you tell each star is twice what it appears

and that to the naked eye Castor is a single spot
of light a bright bullet hole in soft dark space

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rebecca Ball is a poetry and fiction writer from Ōtautahi Christchurch. She has contributed to a range of journals including Landfall, London Grip, Poetry Aotearoa Yearbook, Turbine | Kapohau, Mayhem, Flash Frontier and takahē, as well as special anthologies like No Other Place to Stand: An Anthology of Climate Change Poetry from Aotearoa New Zealand (AUP) and More than a roof: Housing, in poems and prose (Landing Press).