Outer Space

If you could turn the moon

on a lathe, you would

because you are curious.

And that would explain

why the moon slivers,

but explain it stupidly

by not taking care

to ask how the moon rounds.

And so we go, stupid ideas

for feet. The better to wander

with, retort the feet,

and what can you say,

you who shaved those taut

spirals from the moon,

kinks of tightening light

that fell away from your attention

to your work growing smaller

the better you did it?

Threads on a screw, the worm

of a corkscrew, the circular

staircase to sleep....

Soon the moon is gone

as far as it can go and still come back.

Soon there'll be no room

for you: the moon will be all

stomach, like a melon.

The nest you've been meaning

to leave is inside, aslosh with seeds.

Around the outside you curl

like the sky that goes away forever.