which explains why we shiver
when the heedless stars swing by.

Come see,
says my son,
the lens of his telescope
momentarily focused

beyond
what I want to believe -

that the earth is not
the last place we touch,
our song whisper rant
not drifting off
without route or shore.

I trace lines but find
no discernible shape for Vesta
Omega Aquarius Cetus

no trail marked
THIS IS THE WAY,

nothing
of anger sorrow love
or the foolish wishes
we wept and fought for

not knowing they seldom
come true, hope
the most savage lie.

And there in the lower sky,
Venus -

no, a night flight
flashing through the trees
and beyond,
and I'm not aboard,

am left, you could say,
like the aura of a burned-out star,

the body,
that incorrigible flirt,
still leading me on.