Elias Diakolios

Going Blonde

Rid yourself of heliocentricity,
and while you’re at it,
quit your job.
And what is this perpetual
obsession with stars?
Stars in the city skyline,
stars in eyes, stars in pools.
It’s like a shooting star.
It’s like a dwindling star.
It shines like a star – it does fucking not –
the star-sown sky,
the sailor’s starry compass,
the North Star.

We’re sunk by our light saturation.
We told the stars to fuck off,
but have the gall to say
we’re born from stardust,
from so many cosmic lights –
really, only born from one,
maybe two, awful parents in a place
we chose to strip of light.
Stripping ourselves of color
for an illusion of photons (a term
as overused as the actual thing):
welcome to the performative
pantomime of the galaxy.
Bleach me clean,
just make me blonde.

About the Author

Elias Diakolios holds an MFA in poetry from Columbia University, where he served as Poetry Editor for Columbia Journal 59. His work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and has appeared in Burningword Literary Review, New Notes Poetry, Epiphany Magazine, Bookends Review, Juked, and others. He teaches in the Writing Department at Montclair State University and works on linocuts in his spare time.