Winter 1989 • Vol. XI No. 1 Poetry |

The Comet Visits the City

We stood in the backyard, and we reckoned from the fence to the telephone wires, binoculars in hand. Behind the gray of streetlights, houselights, carlights, there it was after all: head of the comet, strange, soft, like the rumor of a planet, over our heads as we spoke, over the chimneys, over the power lines, over the neighbors' houses. And the city received its light into greater light, as morning receives the stars.

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Robin Shectman's poems have appeared in numerous journals, including American Scholar and Beloit Poetry Journal.

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