Lying down

The sky has never looked

so cheap before — — telephone lines

hanging

like the snagged threads

of your lover’s shirt.

Moon the shape of a fingernail pinch

& stars that glitter in discount;

no wonder we can look at it;

no wonder every lover can claim the stars

as yours, they exist

for nursery rhymes and wishes

decayed & to be celestial

is but a ticket

turned to you if you can clasp your hands

& make yourself vulnerable to every possible

bullet your way. Bang!

We can hear the airplanes.

it sounds like the sky

grunting, it sounds like we’re hungry.

Fetch me the crystal candies in the sky, love.

Grab the moon when it turns into cookie.

The night is an ocean of grape juice.

This is the cheapest we can get.