Apparently I Was in a Poetry Exhibit

Last semester, I took a poetry class.  As a class, we took one evening to visit Cedar Breaks National Monument.  We took a short hike (more of a walk, to be honest) and watched the stars come out.  We were then asked to write a poem about a constellation, incorporating the mythology, science, and visual aspects.  The plan was that these poems would be put together into an exhibit later on.

Being me, I bent the rules.  I thought about the different constellations and finally decided I wanted to talk about Earth instead.  It's a star, right?  The concept I was working with was What constellation would Earth be a part of?  Luckily, the professor went through with it.

I had a hard time with the poem.  I wanted to make a statement, but every time I tried, it came across as terribly didactic, which I hated.  I went through more drafts of this poem than I remember ever going through for any other poem, and each draft was radically different from the one that preceded it.  I'm still not completely happy with the final product, but it will do.

The semester ended, and a couple months ago, the professor sent me an email saying she wanted to include my poem in a class poetry exhibit (not everyone's poem was going to be included).  I responded, she asked for a short biography, I sent one, and then I didn't hear from her again.

Last week, a friend of mine who had been in that class mentioned the exhibit casually and that was when I learned that there would be a poetry reading for it this week, meant to open the exhibit.  I was confused.  Was my poem going to be in the exhibit or not?  The professor had told me she would let me know when it would be, but she hadn't.  I sent her an email, but she didn't respond.

That evening, I went to work and mentioned my confusion over the exhibit and the reading.  My co-workers told me that I would probably be in the exhibit, because I was on the posters.  What?!  I hadn't even noticed there were posters for it.  I tracked down a poster (easier than I thought; apparently I'm just oblivious sometimes) and here is what I saw:

Looks like I had nothing to worry about.  They were using me - just me - to advertise the event.  I took this to mean that I would definitely be involved in the reading.

So I asked my friend for details (the professor still hadn't gotten back to me) and then attended the reading.  It went well, and I was surprised by the number of people who attended.  I guess I'd thought only my classmates and maybe their roommates would attend.  If that was the case, my classmates have a lot of roommates, and some of them are professors.

The reading was Tuesday. I pilfered one of the posters today (Friday).

A photographer from the University Journal (where I work) was there and took some photos.  I asked her to send me the photos of me reading my poem, so these are hers.  To give her due credit - her name is Arissa Rowley.

There is also a photo of my poem, which will be on display in the library until April.
 I've already posted this particular poem, but here it is again so you don't have to hunt it down.  You might notice that there are a couple changes, though they are small.  On top of these, the exhibit did not include my first line.  Lame sauce.

Atlas

Stars --
They fill the heavens
like torches from the past.
Yet city lights obscure our direction
and buildings hide the constellations.

But when Atlas shifts his shoulders,
so our lives meet with disaster,
we find ourselves staring at the sky--
because the jostling reminds us
why we make the choice
to breathe.

I can climb a mountain
and see through Atlas' eyes.
Whether I see manmade stars
from the city at my feet
or distant gleams in the sky above,
there is a glory in the sight.

When you go to sleep tonight,
pause for a moment
and look at the sky,
because somewhere out there
an alien child is looking in wonder
through his bedroom window
at the diamond in space
shouldered by a Titan.