It is the Stars that Govern Us

--Michael Magee

The stars are pinned against the sky,

pale and frozen in the ivory moonlight,

the constellations rigid as Monarchs.

Now become the dream; a human specimen.

Prod them with your eyes, let your fingers

trace the patterns of the dipper's handle,

drink deeply from the vessel's mouth;

how cold the moonlight feels on your tongue.

Turn it over, let the mercury run

down your veins until your body stiffens,

arms and legs are fastening in the sockets,

eyes light the way, turning like beacons.

Know that you are hollow to the core,

feel the certain fusion of your hempispheres.

Your life is being pulled into its course,

piercing through your skin the silver axis.

Your heart is hardening, feel its weight,

the valves are tightening slowly into place.

Now let them fix you with their icy stares;

now let them gaze at your great constellations.