because the stars drummed–

If it wasn’t something I said,
or something I did,
or the lid on the stars, that kept
them from tumbling off the galaxy
then I was wrong, or I was sorry,
or we woke up in the wrong positions that morning,
with comet dust on our eyelashes,
or Dune spice in our stomachs.

If it wasn’t something I loved,
or something I hated,
it was just cold feet on the tile,
sneaking in the dark, glasses slipping
on the edge of my nose, or cracking,
under the weight of my toes
Then I was right, since man first
tamed the Dinosaur, in a myth or in a legend,

If it wasn’t something I made up,
or some lie you told my parents,
then it was me and you at the kitchen,
drying the dishes or
it was you from a view I saw from Saturn,
a speck of your body laid out on the pavement.

If it wasn’t your face in the sharpness of feeling
or if it wasn’t your voice I kept hearing,
then it was just a blue lightbulb, glassy,
while I read books it was illuminating.

If it was you,
or if it was someone else I was thinking,
if it was the music in airports
that I kept humming,
then it was a pink coat I was buying,
some pins I was picking, a purse I was taking,
Gloves I was sweating, a universe we were creating.