the sky is a nightlight run
from socket to moon, making
every unknown seem cradled
safely in its luminescence.
the stars seem not so bright,
but all the more abundant

how deeply I wish I could
look upon them and pull out gods,
eternal loves, and ancient allegory.
I don’t know how. I stand weak
and starring–
blankly. as if I have abrupt memory loss–
I am looking up, sorting through hundreds
of photos of a home
I know I should know
yet can’t recall