This poem is taken from PN Review 276, Volume 50 Number 4, March - April 2024.

A Grieving Telescope

Stanley Moss
Death came before life,
darkness came before light.
Which finishes first, hatred, love?
A calendar is just a convenience,
we are the seasons. Gravity and beauty
are real, but beauty is a matter of taste,
Can different play, different work
have the same meanings?
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