For an Astronomer

After the round red corporate sun has sunk With a glittering smile and smoking a big cigar, And the chimneys stinking like upright bits of punk Have lost their brick assurance of what they are,

In the back yard, McConkey, to your work. The long light shakes, but the longer light is steady, That has come down the channels of the dark To find you and your diamond eyepiece ready.

After the searchlights glancing through the black Die to red worms, their business being finished, And on the nondescript short order shack The neon "Eat!" flickers and is diminished,

In the back yard invite the light that follows Dark stars upon their courses and comes still Singled from the profusion of its fellows Like an intention marrying to your will.

After the lights of houses and children even Grow dim for the long whisper into night, And the last ship being safely brought to haven, The lighthouse veils its intermittent sight,

In the back yard, McConkey, where you watch them, Those stars, those voices that never yet made reply, Knowing you know the secret way to catch them, Will fall like willing answers to your eye.