When I was small, my world was flat
and the night sky was a basket, woven
from stripped leaves, uprooted grasses,
placed inverted over every space my
feet remembered at the end of day,
creating dark in which to sleep. But
I had my secret: I would peek through
this thatched lid, through small spaces
where fibers shifted, have my glimpse
of the beyond, the realm outside where
it was always daylight, always sunlit,
ever bright. I was too young yet to live
upon a globe, did not believe in what
my elders called the stars.
Laura M Kaminski grew up in northern Nigeria, went to school in New Orleans, and currently lives in rural Missouri. She is an Associate Editor of Right Hand Pointing, and the author of several poetry collections, most recently Dance Here (Origami Books, an imprint of Parrésia Press Ltd, Lagos, Nigeria, 2015).