I imagine myself crawling

through the keyhole

in your pocket

wondering if there

is a key out there in the universe

but then I get lost in the universe

and wonder if I could

replace the cracked

eggshells of my eyes with stars

and make railroad tracks of them

tracks that would see

far off into the distance

where a woman

bound by constellation

half-lore

half-dynamite

reminds me

that if I just hold

my breath

and fill my body

with universe

I will become

the anatomy of being

a comet in the hands

of a million young lovers

a still-life on the wall

of a tea kettle

and a pear