We’ve acquired lights, a subtle effect
on the broken surface of the sea—
light like diamond, or like a candle’s
awkward balance. This water carries soft wind.
Each break seeks light, a sound
like the spheres, the movement of moonlight
and sunlight, everything to its own
broken position. A gigantic star intercedes,
I find it on a map guided and pointed to
by a center that explodes. Here fate functions
in advance of debt, and velocity is just so:
a model of center’s spin. A true use
of magic, a visible sign of the brokenness
inviting us: I can only manage one perfect part.