you told me that people are shaped like stars

and I realised that

nobody else gets to see this,

gets to see you and what you

are in the pauses,

in the meantime,

in the while and the before.

They don’t,

those mean earthbound

points of flesh

dressing from their parents’ wardrobes

posing

in A-line frailty.

At five years of age

there you are,

an open hand,

begging me to pause

and wonder:

what have I missed?

and in the 30 something years that sit between us

dead as starlight,

which suits I’ve tried

and the ones that fit.