I looked up
and saw a piece of the sky
‘thats a nice piece of sky’, I said
a star raced across my piece of sky
I thought, where do you run, or star?
my vision claimed its ground
comfortable in a warm enclosure
my I afirmed, ‘thats a nice star that ran by, goodbye!’
this astrolabe heart requested
some olive oil
I suggested we could try coconut’s
the wall began rubbing my elbow’s
this cell squeezed my edges
‘ask her questions, find the racing star’
said the astrolabe of my heart
in this high class cell
we pondered the racing star
and suggested a window
I looked up
and wondered
is my piece of sky up or down?

skye