Poem for Thursday, June 12, 2014

Esto Incluye a las Estrellas

On this evening, I turn to what I cannot
see or reach.

This includes the stars.
The longest veil of cloud has tangled itself
around their throats.

Being cosmic is so thankless, you said
another evening long ago:

           a glass of Cabernet in your crescent
           moon hand, eyes bluer than Neptune
           ice, remnants of another galaxy rolling
           off your tongue.

How could I believe you then, now, or
at any point in infinite time?