Is there one truly human act left? The boy
waddles into the kitchen with shit in his pants.
When you traced the photo
of the spiral galaxy, tiny
limestone crystals in your
ear were pulled by gravity,
the motion of the head.
You can bring back a constellation
in different light––a moment when each
object’s voice was clear. Mostly you heard
the teapot and awning.
Hills circle the wreck you know is moving.