ravens have come to out-
number crows here
so we have fewer murders
but more odd cries and gurgling
the October sun glows
in a dull white institutional sky
but in the small hours
how the stars had glittered
Taurus’ V was no bovine face
but a wolf sharp with purpose
clear antagonist
to the well-hung hunter
while Astarte the morning star
had gone over to the morning—
stories to convert a sky
into the heavens
even beyond belief
to be at home in it
this cold milk
curdling overhead