Robert FrostStars
The stars have so far to go
alone or in harness
across a window pane.
Hour after hour tonight
I’ve journeyed with them, steady
the waves of your breath.
Dark space between our beds;
on the table a full tumbler
splits the light of stars
to stars, or floats
a column of dead water,
dead sky. From centuries
off, out of the reign
of one of nineteen pharaohs,
a planet’s dust, metallic,
alive, is sifted down,
hovers in a bright
arc upon your cheek.
Miraculous! I lean
across the dark and touch it,
you smile in your sleep.
How far, how far we’ve come
together, tumbling like stars
in harness or alone.