Little Dipper
// Jeffrey Spinazzola
constellations,
grand in design,
fail to predict
weather changes
no more portentous
than yarn hung at the window
wet if raining
white in snow
the sky clouds, unfit
for gazing
across the room
your eyelids shutter
set behind the coffee steam of paper nights
in corduroy
and slipper
wind scattering eraser shreds