It may have been the late
Afternoon on the walls in my room
of two windows and a table. A
Small trembling
That if given a chance
And the time-
How it worked on me.
It opened the doors to stones
And earth.
Doors I made buried long ago
Or haven’t yet ready to find.
A scalding surprise, a menacing reminder
On orange-red wings
Of the terrifying birth of stars.