Tuesday Poem by Carl Terver

all the birds that gathered round the solar system of your eyes

all the birds that gathered round the solar system of your eyes

(where my telescope lingered)

are no longer in orbit. 

they’ve died from the pressure of living for light years. 

I am not in need of an astrologist’s toolkit

to date their demise,

I want the feel of your face pillowed in my arm,

I want to snatch the moon

running away from the Milky Way

& place it between our faces.

Zipporah, I want to pick the leaf–twitter 

of those birds fallen to the ground

& make a nest from them

In the solar system of eye–trees