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Blue Marble Review

Literary Journal for Young Writers

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Ursa Major

By Farah Ghafoor

“While he was hunting wild animals… he came across his mother [Callisto, a bear], who stood still at sight of Arcas and appeared to know him. He shrank back from those unmoving eyes gazing at him so fixedly, uncertain what made him afraid, and when she quickly came nearer he was about to pierce her chest with his lethal spear. All-powerful Jupiter restrained him … and set them in the heavens and made them similar constellations, the Great and Little Bear.”

  • Metamorphoses Book II

 

 

The evening like a frozen bell. The silver, ghostly

mouth of Callisto as she looks for her son. A spear

tucked into dark, mute hair, she now hunts

 

the idle mothers. Warns: Carry your children

between your teeth, your nails. When the sky veils itself,

do not let them be moonflowers to be picked by men

with fingers like thick wooden pipes.

 

Give them more than birth: This distance is as faceless

as a beast. You will know when they become only a slash

of heart, a blackened window. You will know

when every morning echoes a tinkling light

 

for what you will have lost.

 

 

Farah Ghafoor is a sixteen-year-old poet and editor-in-chief at Sugar Rascals. Her work is published or forthcoming in Ninth Letter, alien mouth, and Big Lucks among other places, and has been recognized by the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. Farah is the recipient of the 2016 Alexandria Quarterly Emerging Artists and Writers Award. She believes that she deserves a cat. Find her online at fghafoor.tumblr.com.

 

 

 

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Winter Poems 2017

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