Sirius Black
A star pinned in blackish sky,
A plate of caviar uneaten,
A tightly shut mouth,
A trembling fist:
Sirius Black is all of these,
And Sirius Black is more.
Feet hurtling through corridors,
Fingers tightening on wand,
Black fur that match the night,
Laughter in three boys’ ears,
(Sometimes, in a lucky girl’s):
Sirius Black, still not done.
Blood soaking too young skin,
Skin adorned with proud scars,
Scars worming into a brain,
Above all, a clever idea:
Sirius Black is these too.
{Sirius Black is also a bracket:
(Prongs-hmm-Peter-hmm-Prongs-hmm-Moony-hmm-the secret-hmm-the rat-hmm-Prongs)}
Then, there is chaos
As newspapers fly and despair arrives,
Culminating in a boy’s scream:
Sirius Black, again,
A dog with a friend,
With three friends and two enemies,
A tale threatening to end
With a wolf’s howl and a deathly kiss.
But the Dog Star is rising,
And the letters smell of sun,
And handshakes are forced,
And houses can’t be homes,
And Sirius Black is the wind
Caught in flying curtains.
Also, a laughter that echoes long after.