In his dreams
the mouth of night
is mute from a year of troubled star-gazing
terrified and unwilling to explain
the idea of tomorrow
to a boy adverse to propulsion.
No news from the control centre
regarding signs of new life. (The adoring astronomer
disarmed by scientific intent.)
This is the twenty-first century: surely we have
the technology to instil hope or at the very least
encourage us to believe in the *idea* of hope.
He holds his breath and thinks dangerous
thoughts of lightning shooting skywards
from his eyes.
Each blunt day brings another reason to pray
or hours spent hanging on
stars that never return his attention.
to the things that draw us near but never reach out.
Still no news. These slow days
draw out with marbled static
and a distinct lack of interest.
Chris Tse is a writer from Wellington, New Zealand. He studied English literature and film at Victoria University, where he also completed a Masters in Creative Writing. His poetry and short fiction have been recorded for radio and published in various journals and anthologies. He is one of three poets featured in AUP New Poets 4 (Auckland University Press, 2011).