from a motif of Pasternak’s
If that’s night you’ve brought
tumbling thick around your head,
a star there come to rest
right where your nostril flares —
if your eyes truly are
nocturnes seen from outside —
then it just might be
that’s happiness slipping
silently from your birdwing lips,
and gathered around you
your own starfilled sky
opening, opening
for you to take flight.
Beyond Breakers 