i think to starlight i am not strange
(but to men, maybe
              
                                    )because

the day's wife, night, is richly
a girl who wears a colour that
is not a colour but is better
because it has fast hair that
is so with sheen and it is
pearlescent its body is furred
in a trillion minute zeniths
on which i stack my feet
climbing into her mouth my
body becomes 1 of only
an infinite and though i
die i shall again be in her
not strange (a star)

                             but to men, maybe