Stargazing Through Silk Blindfolds by Logan February There's a single shriveled hibiscus by my bedside, next to the night-glass where I keep my eyeballs when they itch. It is old, and it has lost its scent by now. I was supposed to write about it, I think, but I'm too blind tonight, and it has no color anyway. Two veins, one needle (I have always been tragic with division). Two needles, one vein, this is how I know to dance. Eyes shut, tongue out, I am in a spacesuit, and these stars have nothing good to say. Will it kill me if I'm already dead? Sway my head as I tango across the highway Mismatched socks, overgrown arms the bathtub is full of sawdust, and sworn secrets too. I can whisper, I was taught, I swear, there is something above, seashore, see-saw, skyline. Lemon scent, morning noise, wake wake, toss a hiccup toward the universe, where the fuck did I keep my eyes this time? Slip in (gently now, don't wake the monsters under the bed). Crimson calendar swears I have slept four years and a hibiscus field has grown somewhere in my liver. Sway my head, as I fertilize them Lemon scent, whiskey scent, heaven sent I am going back up and my spacesuit is missing. Tongue out, lung out, there is no oxygen here and no breathing.