So you became
an orbiter like the earth,
the silence in her wake
sterile and immortal.

The light rose every day
over the scanned
and evened-out landscape.
A punctured bottle
siphoned on a cool grid
steaming from somewhere.

Pushing a lumpen couch
a zone of pink curtained-off atmospheres,
the muscles of a cartoon figure.

Slice of the cave's top
gleaming with membrane of torn fingers.
Naked web of nerves laid open
to a snowstorm and a barn door.