The sky pulls you in.
You stand on tiptoe like a child.
Arranged like birthstone earrings
on a card, they’re tarnished.
Sirius the dog, Medusa writhing
in her headdress of snakes, Orion
chasing the flock of doves
that later changed to sisters.
These strange stories kept you from sleep.
The bedside glass remains a collection of sand.
The same electron
masquerades as others, speeding in
and out of time
like Mother’s needle,
passing through the cloth
she held on her lap.