Dark eyes, pools to drift in,
wells to sink in, after the light,
half smiles, all momentarily eclipsed –
you frame the night.
You shame the planets in their transit.
I’ll have trouble seeing the stars
from just a darkly shadowed glance –
all the distant galaxies becoming
dust, when they meet your sigh.
And in that disappearing cosmos,
your almost smile, the rarely glimpsed
journey of Mercury;
your neck, a Southern constellation;
your ears are oubliette nebula;
the bridge of your nose, the Little Bear;
but your eyes, they are always consuming –
black collapsing stars that draw the night.