Speculatrix at the Mountaintop Observatory

I rehearse my rangy faith
in prospects
lying face down,
chin rocking on the lawn
& corner-eyeing the night.
From this vantage
the junegrass spikelets
serrate the sky as if
incision were the next
transaction & heavenspill
the next. The observatory
slathered in glue then silver
glitter. Carried away
by heretic astronomy,
my looking atomizes & flings
farther. The neglected
telescope rattles its moonfaced
lenses. Loves, the pathos
of the fixed point
is a derivative based on return
but I would rather fall
again. I would rather
a ceiling strung with pinfire,
caving in. The asthmatic
engine of wonder still turns
me over. I spin.

Copyright © 2010 Cecily Parks All rights reserved
from Gulf Coast
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission