[Title redacted to protect the privacy of a corporation]

by Myra Wollman

The workbook my student read this morning
Said heaven is too real to understand
Said the center is too grand
Said all the stories
All our human crowning glories
Could tell no truth, could only lie.
So we dare not even try.
Why map the depths it’s plain to see
Would crush you in immensity?
And shadowed, dark, unknown.
To dwell on dark is wrong.
Repeat the words I say to you
The sky is brilliant, blinding blue,
It’s never any other hue.
Reject the thought of thought, of doubt.
Cast casts into the sea and if you catch a question,
Cast it out.

Myra Wollman lives in the cold north, where she spends her days in the classroom and her nights looking for comets in the starry sky.

Photography by Kenneth Godoy

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