Stars wished to dust at the evening’s end
by little boys grown up to learn not everything
needs mention but to God,
not everything needs told to the flowers,
pollinate the bees.
Tunnels dug throughout the world to
connect each other. Where are the harbors?
Guess the little boys they have gone to sleep
or they have frozen;
they have not remained to play…
Little boys wishing to dust the stars
off with wishes and use them in a song, not
a lullaby, but something to irrigate life.
Sung down to bed, they waken in the night to
nothing, fall back asleep scared to their pillows
because there is no music inside or out,
and because dry mouths need water to wet.
Nurse shakes the little boys to rise——
We sit up in our bed and lick the tears
fallen on our lips asleep.