i’m afraid of stars

fuck it

all of outer space.

how small it makes me.

i’d rather not count

the grains of sand

stuck to my thighs

after sex

on the beach

a millepede

scuttering next

to my shoulder

meteors shooting

blank over

my lover’s head.

not so blank.

i abort a galaxy

half named after me.

named ammo.

named nothing.

i don’t know how

to navigate a maze

without knocking down

walls. i don’t know

one place

one thought

one urge

from the next.

but i know

what it means

to roll over

in the middle

of the night

to shallow breath

of a quiet sleeper

who—when he wakes—

will disappear

inside me.