by David Filer
     The sad, lucent, malevolence of the heavens . . .
               David St. John, Lucifer by Starlight

The stars emerge at
dusk and find the names
we have given them:

Orion.  Lyra.
Cancer.  Gemini.

Then they are ours, skies
we have stories for,
skies we’ve been warned of,

until a new dawn
comes, and they are blind
to us again, just

Venus, the cold one,
setting late but bright,
reminding us, though

we have modern dreams,
not to forget love’s mean
dependence on night.