Lessons in Astronomy

by Harvey J. Baine 

Without roses
for the acrobats
turning
on themselves
in the shape
of trees
at night mouths
open on
small spines
curved hands
lifted
muddy fingers plumb
for the center of gravity.

Gyroscope eyes
symbiotic
with the insect
song beyond
my open window
having found
all the instruments
of science
we set the spheres.

She holds on
in the rough
palms I kiss
to tastes
of other mouths
laughter is
the elliptical
edge of winds
on my way home
driving
left – handed
I count the change
left in my pockets.