The International Space Station [8:14 PM, Visible: 3 min, Max Height: 72°, Appears: 28° above WNW, Disappears: 36° above SE]

like dusk as it falls   
like a stone star returning   
from out of nowhere   
across this open-mouthed sudden-look-up 
sure strap of night   
a bright tin can motors   
the sky’s an un-interrupted map   
inside your pocket   
a tiny thread of darkness   
we could climb to the peak   
reach over the lip of mountain   
the sound of a second hand unspooling   
this valley’s great grey eyelid is opening shut   
with a gentle hum of rain   
we wait   
our faces clockwork   
constrained to the space where imagination draws   
a fine-tuned orbit   
blind fingers tracing   
a greenhouse  -  an iceberg  -  a toaster   
across the clouds a knife-cut
cut to stopwatch   
from these iron-sharp rocks   
a coordinate curves its shot 
towards the cat’s-cradle bridge we find ourselves on   
like a dynamo rolling  
like two cogs adjusting   
as day shuffles over into night   
time stands in equilibrium   
plying a weave where water slipstreams   
busy with conversation   
the photophore swings its sublime circumference 
in silence   
aligning our bodies to the tilt of the earth   
we rotate like swimmers   
the stars have returned as dusk falls   
like a stone   
like a dusting of feldspar   
not quite dark   
but deepening   
how many times have we walked these paths?   
and up there   
chugging its faded body to the other shore   
it really is sinking   
this valley has only three twinkling minutes 
to thrum its filament   
wrapped in a hundred thousand