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5 Starfish Such brilliant boredom under the sun. How they carve shadows in the moondust of the ocean floor, each arm radiant, excruciating to the thousand hungry mouths they tease: small wonder we try to thank them. Lucky ones in tanks in low lit city aquariums, or those desiccated on the shore— in time we find these stars more precious than what we count on. Orbiting in glass skies foreign to their silences, we puzzle over their power to regenerate, how the stories their bodies make replay. In Hollywood, we walk their silhouettes, unaware how they fell there. Seeing stars over the infant—they swing from cribposts in primordial dark. Odd angels thrown into a fire of coastlines crowned with bodies, and which of us could rip their wings in greed, demystify them, 6 break our promise to continue with these myths we made, sunk in constellations we guide our lives by? ...

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