Sackful of Satellites
by Mike Allen
Brightness tossed from a silk sack spins in the wind, flashing
light to dark to light and back again, caught in your palms and
it shines cold, no heavier than a coin for Charon. The man with
the sack skips away, long nightcap trailing behind, robes
fluttering pale as ghost wings, black afterimage fades to grey.
Treasure his gift against your heart as it starts to grow; but
drop it before it swells too heavy, bores a hole in your earth,
pulls in the tides like blankets.
About the Author:
The Philadelphia Inquirer has called Mike Allen's newest
collection, Strange Wisdoms of the Dead, "poetry for
goths of all ages" that does "a fine job of making the human
scary and the scary human." His other books include the poetry
collections Defacing the Moon, Petting the Time Shark
and Disturbing Muses and the anthologies Mythic
and Mythic 2. For nine years he's been editor of the
poetry journal Mythic Delirium. His fiction has sold to
H.P. Lovecraft's Magazine of Horror, Helix SF,
Interzone, and Weird Tales. He's a three-time winner of
the Rhysling Award for speculative poetry.
Poem © 2007 Mike Allen