I feel astronomical these days,
a beat of earth mashed with creation,
telling the story of earth and sun.
I recognize this story is unavailable,
that before night crosses the Rubicon,
a failed attempt can slash nothing.
Jupiter, Venus. Some of the shapes I didn’t
know before. These celestial objects
starred though I knew what the Church
sang. I wrote an unfavorable report, Earth
rotates around the sun. I was nervous death
would get in the way. Soon, I’m completed
with bruises, rope yanking me to a chair.
I abjure. I abjure. I say. Now I’m stuck
in my tower. Cracks that make me real.
Body manufactured by the last of the light.
