Body put daughter to bed in what was now
Her grandparents’ house. Time to drive home.
In the sharp air, just above freezing and desert
Clear, there arched the old familiar span,
Seen rarely in the past year, bright arch,
Dusty margins, all-devouring darkness
At the heart of it, enough stars that surely
Some had perished after billion-year lives
In just the time since body had last looked into it.
Bones, milk, tears. Narrower and narrower
Choices of metaphors. If we were to insist
On name, on metaphor at all, might as well
Skip over the larger classes of all the vertebrates,
All the mammals, and collapse on the monophyletic,
Only human one. Only one being names patterns
In the skies. Only one weeps when it cries.
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