October 20

This poem is your satellite
Curling high above the velour earth

On which you recline, half asleep.
A tiny bite of light’s lightness

Lightens and a word falls away,
Spins down, a small stone beneath

The soles of the world’s furry feet.
Put your ear to the hole in the dirt

Where it landed and waited there,
Brown picture jasper of my heart

Whispering impure silica, an
Aggregate of chalcedony

Like all the missed full moons:
I am rarely blue.