The test tonight begins: What might she hear
amidst the spiral whirs of Sunflower stars
caught in the tight�ning loops of Bootes� sphere?

His hounds? A hawk swoops down through millibars
of atmosphere dropped from his fingertips �
the rabbit squeals beneath sunflower stars.

A cochlear shell gives her a clue in snips
of runes, a conch that holds the windy words
of atmosphere, dropped from his fingertips.

Write one line, volta, two and turn... Lovebirds
mock such, looking to the pine cones made
of runes whose seed could hold the windy words

of mighty bards in neon flashes. Renegade,
he speaks of Elvis, pillow snores and sleep.
He knits illusions of the pine cones made

on autumn days to feed his counted sheep.
The test began tonight: What could she hear
in resonating pillow snores and sleep,
tangled as she was in loops of Bootes� sphere?



�2006 by PJ Nights
~previously in Wicked Alice