The Star Chart Lost to Love’s Footnote

Let it be recorded that the heart, though smaller than a fist, has ruined armies more efficiently than winter. In my keep, I opened a star chart to find its maker’s tiny note on a supposedly insignificant conjunction; naturally, the footnote was more dangerous than the heavens. Now every promising book seems to be winking from the shelf.

When I cannot choose, I follow the detail that refuses to leave me alone, and lately that is a clever beloved escaping by footnote. You may call this scholarship; I call it an alarming resemblance to my thoughts of SKY, which are quite sincere and entirely my own. My next book is decided, then.