She spoke of star-gazing.
Her ceiling was a plain galaxy:
a stranger’s ground.

Spine straight, leaned forward,
she moved like a telescope
and found the earth in my eyes.

I pushed away the curtains
and opened the window. Branches
stretched into the sky like veins, stars were arteries.

She pushed the window closed
and pulled me from the sill.
Her hands crashed onto my core.

I stopped feeling so grounded.
But to her, I was out of this world,
and to her, my eyes were her earth.


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