(watching the comet in March, maple sugaring season)


Breathe in the trail of its light, ice river vaporizing
from light years afar and melted from the spilling dipper . . .
Now taste this: a water bathed with the sweetness
rising, released, the sweet abundance of stars instilling dark
with its white sugar grains . . . Boiling, boiling,
all night the smoke billowing milkily, clouding the cold
bellows of snow, the breathing below freezing after a day's
bright thaw . . . Dark, darker, the syrup
darkening under midnight's departing moon: the comet
moonlighting, the sap-moonshine . . . Come dip
your long-handled cup across the eastern branch of sky
into this steam, into this stream of liquid dust sailing
through the open vein: a splendid suspension to sip
at lips dark and wet, to raise up, drink in, swallow:

originally appeared in Chelsea Magazine as "Sweeter Than Life"