This clear cold night, the Pleiades
jump out at me, hollering
Lisa. Up here. Over here.
Yes. Here.
What are they trying to tell me?
Nothing, of course. They're not
talking to me. But they are
grabbing and holding my gaze and
me, frozen, of a sudden just a post
for the tether to the dog I half-hear smelling spots
in the same small circle of crunchy grass
miles below, light years further away
than seven blue sisters in the sky.
