Whose child was I?
Granted a name promising
stories written across stars,
access to the future, a glimpse
behind the habit my mother
Passed into the arms of Brittany
and held in stiff folds of
linen. Rustling silence and starched
piety. I wasn’t old before
I asked why
Only to be sent with my cousins
to find dandelion for dinner.
Bitter green and grey potato
filled in the hollow
of what I wanted to know.
But this name! More question than answer
to my past. An instrument through which
one gazes at sun, moon and
stars with both feet still planted
on the ground.
For readers of this blog a hint: Astralabe was the son of Heloise and Abelard, conceived illegitimately and then given to a relative to raise. He pretty much disappears from the historic record after this is noted about him. I would like to turn this draft into a poem cycle – for now it comprises another entry in my academic reading journal.