Like all transformations, this one enters virgin white.
Never lampooning the sky, a man has thoughts of riding
a small galactic sail -- some-made-for-anybody's-use
that glides up a spiral of stars. But no, there is Orbit's exodus, the Rock


Of the Moon. Outside,
You have seen the moon's photograph
clicked on its halo
above devotion. Nonsense the far light year. Nonsense

prepared candlelight, the moon hiding
behind your blinds.


But make your bed useful for the dark side.