Number One Sun

How beautiful is the sun?
And how equipped am I to judge?
Make comparisons with what?
Maybe she is only alluring,
Because I have never seen another,

And if I had to choose from many.
Would I still pick this one?
The brightest star of all.
Although it could be the most repellent thing,
Under all that light and glow
Behind the solar winds,
Infinite black.

And if I stared?
Would I really be struck blind?
The last scene in my own private movie
Bright white, turning black (through crimson gloss)
Burnt, charred, scarred, dead.

That would show me!
How benevolent the sun is
How irrelevant to those,
Spun glass
Spindle babies
Neon lit
One hundred fathoms down.

How malevolent to these
Pasty white skins
Who only want to be
What they are not.
Free to burn,
All those

Right through to the inside,
Let's see what you really are,
Supreme annihilator.
Fever loving, radiating,
Number one sun.

(c) Rebecca Helen Galloway 2001

Rebecca Helen Galloway

Rebecca Galloway born in 1974, and has had a number of poems published in small press magazines in the UK and USA. She has lived in England and the USA. and now is based in Scotland where she lives with her husband and two fantastic children. She is the editor of  'pod' a poetry webzine -- well worth a visit at