by Susan diRende
a eulogy for the distance between two stars
in another life where what we’re scared of is only half the battle, we press our hands against each other in
some sort of a promise. in this life, every absentee crowds into a church / tells themselves it’s not
the wind shrieking outside, not a star crumbling in onto themselves, not someone saying goodbye.
the soundtrack to the service is a bad romcom playing in the background of my heart and a
voicemail left over from trusting in being left, and every guest remembers to respectfully press
their hands over their ears as they come in. and there we are at the altar, barely reminiscent of a
deathly quiet wedding happening again and again in the distance drifting past. under your eyes are
the half moons of the space between worlds, and i can’t stop from pretending to love you for
another moment longer. i can’t stop time and in between our vows, i think i’m trying to say i’m
sorry. but it’s all over far too quickly, and i feel the sunlight coated skies parting ways / the heat
beating down on my back while i’m on my knees begging for another chance to repeat it all, have
another funeral and another and another until the stellar midnight lets us go.
Maitreyi Parakh is a student and sometimes poet that enjoys the symbolism of cherries and other red fruit, Makoto Nagahisa’s cinematography, and having dinner with the people they love.
Author/artist Susan diRende travels the world with no fixed abode. She has won awards for her writing including the 2017 Special Citation for Excellence by the Philip K Dick Awards. Her artwork has had exhibitions in New Zealand, Belgium, Mexico, and the US. Most recently, she has had writing and artwork published in The Dewdrop, the Pine Hills Review, and The Gaze Journal.