Note for my Father watching Comets by Kim Malinowski

Comets are icy bodies of gas and rock,  

conglomeration of pieces and personality. 

They arc across the night sky,  

their tails dragging behind them like bridal trains. 

Some return quickly, others less hurried, 

traversing the galaxy. 

They wait to mesmerize, dazzle,  

smile brilliantly in front of cameras. 

And that, my father, is how daughters 

depart, with a flash of streaking light. 

They remain in orbit and appear again, 

for laundry and Sunday dinner,  

with accolades and PhDs, locking arms 

down the aisle, sometimes grandchildren. 

Then they pass by, 

leaving only a shimmer 

of where they used to be. 

When your shooting star appears 

with a burst of light, 

just above the horizon, 

set-up your telescope, 

spread out a picnic blanket, 

and watch captivated as she trails by. 

---

Kim Malinowski is a lover of words. Her debut collection Home was published by Kelsay Books and her chapbook Death: A Love Story was published by Flutter Press. Her work has appeared in War, Literature, and the Arts, Mookychick, Amethyst Review, BLUEPEPPER, Enchanted Living, and others. She writes because the alternative is unthinkable.