You drag the dogs out
for a late-night pee through
the carport, past compost bins
festering with the self-same stardust
that flecks the dark vault above
the drive. Quarter-moon scuds
into a fringe of overcast. Silence
abounds. Emmett and Sydney
finish their business, indulging
you while you arch your back,
scanning the stark quadrant
anchored by Polaris. How our forms
decay at different rates, your
Dad receiving a recent reprieve
with three sleek stents in his
ninety-four-year-old heart.
Nothing so spectacular
as streaking across a stretch
of ionosphere at thirty-six miles
a second. You mark another four
comet fragments burning out
before chill sets in, and you all
shuffle off to your warm
and temporary beds.
–
Robbie Gamble (he/him) is the author of A Can of Pinto Beans (Lily Poetry Review Press, 2022). His poems have appeared in the Post Road, Whale Road Review, The Worcester Review, Salamander, and The Sun. He is the poetry editor for Solstice Literary Magazine, and he divides his time between Boston and Vermont.
© 2025, Robbie Gamble
Halfway Down the Stairs 