For a Bear
You are Atlas,
Holding up my sky.
And I trace the outline of your face
in the darkness of the light.
Flesh is cracked with the weight,
With the stars installed on your back.
That constellation frame, wide,
shining brighter in the rural fields
of this damned state.
Let me be what Hercules wouldn’t.
Let me hold your hand in sleep,
and grasp me, made of pillars.
The universe is but marble
between our digits.
You are my Ursa Major,
Pointing towards our North.
We leave these borders
of telescope lens sky.
And your body is marked
by hundreds of shooting stars.
Our sky is black tonigh