crayola deferred to the vortex & hooked a blue thread
around each of her seed potatoes before planting them
in a fallow plot by the barn. she imagined a sky filled

w/horses being ridden bareback by nine year old girls
swinging censors like an old map factory at the mouth
of time, took another piece of string out of her pocket

& held an ark of space junk in its orbit by recognizing
that she was powerless to change, that no matter how
she numbered it the stars were still stolen from home.