Editor's Note: Each day from December 1 -21, Halifax' poet laureate Sue Goyette will write a new poem to share with the city on The Coast's website and social media. "If I need this, I bet other people need this," she told us on day one—and we think she's right. In a year that's felt like a months-long dusk, this will be some light we can carry forward, together, until the days begin to grow again.
Here is her poem for December 13:
he more expertise is hefted out of the way, the more room there’d be for mystery, which feels fitting given, well, everything. Like 3200 Phaethon
, the who-knows-what thing and its orbital path the Earth is passing through in the next few days. This what-the-what? unicorn may have an asteroid name but has a comet tail and continues to perplex scientists by being the source of the Geminids meteor eleganza. And this 'comet-asteroid hybrid'
or, even better, 'rock-comet'
is not just blue, but the bluest of all similarly coloured asteroids. The bluest, as in the last heart of a river being protected blue or the grip of duct tape wrapped around “Duct Tape Messiah” Blaze Foley’s coffin. "The blue
," William Gass tells us, "the mind becomes in borrow of the body
; the blue consciousness becomes when caressed
." This glorious contraption takes the long way to get close to the sun and is carrying on being itself by defying being trapped into category. And in its wake: galactic tinsel, sacred zippers undoing the night. May the sky be clear so we can receive a taste of it to fuel our own mystery. Or, at least, to wake it up.