Wrestled breathing to sleep, too late. Not a wink was
Collected, instead, tabled till worried expressions
Contort features to bone & cartilage. I hurry the hour
To apex; I shudder myself to storm. Brilliance &
Value: a daughter’s song sung to collars & cleft chins;
Mothers in fields, with dresses bunched into fists—
An hour too long, a sign—glass in origin. It buzzes
About an open mouth, dances teasingly about the
Teeth. She, a temptress, collector of man’s sigh,
Polishes her knuckles, those brusher-of-eyes, tears
That pool & portend to break land. I know not of
Windows, only space left open, unprimed. Just open.
As the astronaut hangs backward over the starry sky,
I hang open in equal wonder at that which is mine.