#2,410 Looking Up

A noctilucent cloud marks
my being among northern
man-made lines – a turn of
untouchable stuff to fix all
bearings from a southerly
place called home – Shall I
move here soon & unhook
my tethers of cruel history
to float up & find myself – I
jet northerly blood [on my
mother’s side – illegitimate
stuff] – Such a black sky [a
coal-black dome & a rattle
of stars] beyond my grasp