Thank God the Comet Lies

by Greg Beatty



Our relationship is a comet.
The long-haired harbinger
of doom races towards
the heat and grows
insanely bright, and large
as the king of planets.
But when close, its tail
points away from the light.
Its coma of caring—so calm
and small when cool—
boils up, up and away.
Everyone knows when
we're close. They come
out at night to watch us.
That time is short.
One fast waltz
through the gravity well,
then back into the
long cool period of sanity.
Everything settles, freezes,
and solidifies. We
forget both doom and love
and expect to rest
in the Oort burbs forever.
And, thank god, we lie.
Give us time;
we'll race the sun again.


Copyright © 2004, Greg Beatty



Comet Hale Bopp
Comet Hale Bopp
© Howard Edin


Greg Beatty attended Clarion West in the summer of 2000. He's had a number of short stories accepted since then. (For more information on his writing, visit his web site.) When he's not at his computer, he enjoys cooking, practicing martial arts, and having complex interpersonal relationships.



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