Astronomer

Sky-man in a manhole

with astronomy for dream,

astrology for nightmare;

fat man full of proverbs,

the language of lean years,

living in square after

almanac square

prefiguring the day

of windfall and landslide

through a calculus

of good hours,

clutching at the tear

in his birthday shirt

as at a hole

in his mildewed horoscope,

squinting at the parallax

of black planets,

his Tiger, his Hare

moving in Sanskrit zodiacs,

forever troubled

by the fractions, the kidneys

in his Tamil flesh,

his body the Great Bear

dipping for the honey,

the woman-smell

in the small curly hair

down there.