Finally, the news ripped my head right off.
A ballerina caught it.
She pulled the whole history of the sky into the wound atop my neck;
like math-ribbons spun by mercury’s spider.

I was inside-out. So now the Sun was my heart.
And my moon was love for this nacreous waif.
All of her danger; the secret conversations of her bones.
Now I live in starfields.

Now I live in silver fishes in the night’s endless water.