Winter 2005 • Vol. XXVII No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 2005 |

A Needle in the Sky

There is a needle in the sky    Being threaded now, but the thread is blue: That is why you cannot see it    Threading its way. When all is said and done It will keep sewing—as long    As a tiny knot remains, as long as something Whets the tip whenever the knot    Happens to untie, as long as the sun Arouses the wind that catches    The thread again, twisting an end so that It may begin. There is a needle    Pulling a thread through your veins, A needle pulling the sap    From the root to the bole, a thread Pulling a bird to a tree—   Tugging your heart as soon as you believe There is nothing left.    There is a glistening filament, a cold Instrument making its way    From once upon a time to now, To tomorrow. Maybe the sun    Is a giant spool, maybe the needle Cannot rest until it runs    Out of light, maybe a star is a randomStitch unraveling . . .    Until a needle runs out of thread, It is impossib

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