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Angie Minkin
SOLAR SYSTEM

Why did I dream my father was Pluto,
an outcast planet? Was it the five planets
lined up beneath the moon?
Beginning meant wishing on stars,
balloons and newspapers, counting
constellations. So many stories.
The mouthfeel of the flour and water mash.
The smell of the paste slathered over half-inflated
balloons—I see my father’s pursed lips, blowing,
thick like mine. The rest of his face invisible.
Beneath that old school project, that carefully crafted
papier mâché mobile we created together,
I feel his shoulders under my legs, hands clutching
my ankles, lifting me to finish. Lost now, trashed
when the house was sold, the 8-mm home
movies of pirouettes and piano recitals lost
as well. One with the Skater’s Waltz that played
in the background, the only piece he ever
memorized. What we see in the sky is in the past.
About the writer:
Angie Minkin is an award-winning San Francisco-based poet whose work has been published or is forthcoming in Birdy Magazine, Concho River Review, DASH Literary Journal, El Portal Literary Journal, Lips Poetry Magazine, Loch Raven Review, The MacGuffin, Rattle, The Poeming Pigeon, Stirring: A Literary Collection, The Unbroken Journal, The Westchester Review, and others. She is a coauthor of Dreams and Blessings: Six Visionary Poets. Her work has been included in Fog and Light, San Francisco through the Eyes of the Poets Who Live Here and Pandemic Puzzle Poems. Her chapbook, Balm for the Living, will be published in 2023.
Image: Winter Night by Harald Sohlberg (1869-1935). Oil on canvas. 32.2 x 27.7 inches. 1910. Public domain.