Falling Stars – POETRY CHURCH

Couldn’t sleep tonight
The bed was made of fire and lumps of coal
That formed out of my own failure
To be there
For the woman I love
So instead I went for a walk
Breathing cool clear darkness
Between street lights
And the glare of tv sets
And the glares of the watchers peering out from heavy purple curtains
I saw a constellation in the sky
I said to myself,
“That is my heart”
For it was made of falling stars
She will gather them with tongs in the morning
And use them to heat the biscuits for herself and our children
While I’m still asleep in the van

About The Author

Matt Beard

Matt Beard is an artist most known for his paintings that portray hundreds of locations across the length of the entire California coastline. He spends weeks at a time alone in his van traveling the state and looking for new vistas upon which to plant his easel. All that time on the road has really messed with his head, and so he’s taken to writing poetry as a way to cope with his increasing anxiety about parking tickets or overnight camping violations.

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