Horoscope
I photograph your horoscope
from The Irish Independent
with my mobile phone
to send it to you miles away
along the coast in Enniscrone.
Now the stars
might as well be closer
than you are. On a good night
I can see them easily.
But I’m grateful for the magic
that brings me your voice
every day. I remember,
before sending, you don’t
look at the horoscopes
we used to read together
these Covid days, can’t even
bring yourself to look
at the crowded stars, the moon
in its solitary splendour.
by Ciaran Parkes
Editor’s Note: This poem’s stanza breaks (in between sentences) are carefully chosen to mirror the difficult distance between the speaker and their loved one, reinforcing the final image of a solitary moon in a crowded space.
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