Stars rotate steadily on their axes
because each always thinks the same thoughts
about the same things.
Plato, Timaeus (40A)
Our starry brains — their frail shells stuffed
with as many neurons as the galaxy has suns.
On this sunlit afternoon, I clutch
my temples to keep the giant number in.
Alice Major served as Edmonton’s first poet laureate. Her latest collection is Knife on Snow.
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