Solely a human craving, naming that which spins beyond the earth jar.
But to call a dark carbon
Elpis, or hope, misleads the mind — it rings too close to Help us, a plea.
Is that how we throw our voice into the skies, like rubbed coins into murky water?
Is that what we need when reading?
Keats and when our heads bow down from drink?
What do I know?
Maybe hope is the right word after all.
Maybe the blueshifting of galaxies is pure mood.
About the Author
Scott Berzon earned an MFA in poetry from the University of Michigan and is the recipient of the Frank Vincent Memorial Prize, the Meader Family Award, and the Roy W. Cowden Memorial Fellowship, all for creative writing. Scott’s poems have appeared in a variety of publications including: Acorn, Cream City Review, Poetry Midwest, Quarter After Eight, Southern Indiana Review, and others.
Scott served for several years, as poetry editor for december magazine. He continues to teach a variety of writing courses and workshops for the local, St. Louis community where he lives with his wife Jamie and their three children
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