by Beth Cato
she can't help but taste the stars
those rare nights when their nectar
drips from the heavens
her mouth gapes wide
like hatchling sparrow in nest
dependent on mother sky
errant starlight freckles
her dark skin like molten sand
droplets gummy as old honey
the taste of deep space
complex as old creation and marinated
by a million mile journey
not sweet, not sour
an indescribable umami well worth
full human lifetimes of wait