the lampwick

a single thread of stars rises from a low bowl of stars, with one warm bright point at the very top — the flame, the wick already half-spent. the bowl never empties. the flame is never out. somewhere in the middle is the moment a wick understands what it is for.

small vigils are kept while this constellation is up. its rising is what teaches a candle how to burn slowly. it is sometimes the only thing visible during the long four-am.