Weaving my way back home at 5a.m.
with a hole in my
pocket
conscience
tranquility
a circumlunar search for a handheld mirror
perched right between my shoulders
where my head used to be before launch.
Now there's a permanent eclipse in my right eye
and it swivels and spins orbiting a daydream
the one where words were papier-mâché lanterns
lit by a copper sunset in a distant Sunday afternoon
New York, October 2022