The Astronomer's Death
by Kendra Sims

There was
an investigation
on a secret-stuffed, moonless night
to shed light on a death
set during the eclipse.

Who’s dead? The astronomer.

When asked,
some writer confessed,
over her shoulder, pages in sight,
“Sorry — a poem in the make
had me in its grips.”

The deceased claim in life? A prediction come true.

When asked,
the mathematician
made sure his glasses were on right.
“Sorry — I was busy, sketching
the event as an ellipse.”

What do we have? A body, getting cold.

When asked,
several passerby
said that, high in his observatory, the victim held tight
to a rail watch his vision unfold
-a rail that sometimes tips.

And who do we question now? Awe, pride, and maybe gravity.

And so,
the coroner
struggled with all his might,
covering the astronomer, who still
wore a smile on his lips.

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