Orion’s belt is sagging from weight,
the big dipper has spilled
galaxies
line the horizon and the milky way is an interstate
more intense than standing in the center of oncoming traffic
on the 5 in Los Angeles.
It’s darkness and more darkness.
A cone of light spreads short and darkness consumes.
I stop and erase the engine.
the silence is deafening
the ears are opening and searching
violently
for anything to
sound.
The smallest crescent of the moon reveals
a jagged line of mountain or mesa. I don’t know.
I’ve driven to the heart
in darkness and
brace for the shock of the landscape upon morning light.