Author Bruce Bennett The constellations—see? A throne? A crab? A goat? A hare?— are not so clear when you’re alone. It seems there’s nothing there But stars and stars with no designs. It takes an expert guide to draw the non-existent lines around what’s not inside. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments