Casting Stars
by Dave Barber

My daughter has plastic
glow-in-the-dark stars
glued to her ceiling.

She’s named each one,
telling me:
that’s one is Brian
and that one Dog –

See, it’s further away
because it’s mean.

For seven days,
She cast them in place
and called it good.

Her own universe
without planets
wasting time revolving,

without other bothersome
life to worry with.