Stuck In A Ball

Becca Lamarre



Stuck In A Ball


Think of the rivers of blood, spilled by all those generals and emperors,

so that in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters,

of a fraction, of a dot. – Carl Sagan


If you want to feel really small you think of Carl and his photograph

taking one last peek at Earth before entering bottomless skies.

If you begin to read of galaxy filaments you could wind up so cloudy

you’d rip the cord from your desk and take a walk outside

to catch the last of the sun nesting down below the rim.

With each step taken on your city block you start to swell.

A house sparrow tucking in nods at your largeness.

Rectangles of light form a quilt to cover buildings and you know each

one to be an envelope holding people and pets and worn linen and boards.

You could look in each direction and settle on up, on Carl’s sky

to realize you might need to undo a button or two, you’ve grown so thick

now fastened to this city, smelling only earthly smells, stuck in this ball.


Becca Lamarre is an Indiana native and a graduate of Ball State University. After a stint in the Adirondack foothills of New York, she landed in Chicago where she is at work on her debut poetry collection. Her work has most recently appeared in Red Rock Review, SunStruck Magazine and Driftwood Press.