Night

Up against the window, the fading sun.

In rags, Orion’s notes appear against your skin.

Sparsely thrown across your chest.

Swathed in the folds of blankets.

Now you are luminous.

The bow no longer exists.

The star chart I traced into the palm of my hand.

Has smoke written all through it.

Are you terrified of absolute silence?

I drive miles into the country just to have a look at you.

You are no plagiarist of dusk.

Nothing in the sky equals itself.

All the stars have changed positions.

All the fortunes have been faked.

Charted against a lover who hasn’t existed for a million years.