MAY THE FOURTH

Between the multibillion-dollar marriages,
the artificial magic and the never-ending hashtags
and the unhappy joyful, the grieving believers, 
the mouth sounds we make by instinct, 
the subtle hand-wave at the supermarket, 
the generational sagas we tell to our parents 
and the self-same we tell to our children, 
I’m always home in that other galaxy, 
where I belong in that long-ago moment.

By Heidi Turner