The sea star clings to the sharp rock walls in salted purple
as if a sweat-stained cape draped its many shoulders
with superhero ease. It waits for the sea
while I watch, disarmed by the question of low tide
and turn away, scattering my gaze upward
to where other constellations hang, luminous and out of reach.
Still, at my feet curls this glistening dust,
its powerful arms extended to hold every slipper rock
as if asking me to embrace even this longing
as if showing me how the stars reflect within us
whenever we crouch close to face the sea.