What did they see that my cheeks

•

What did they see that my cheeks
can't take the weight, each eye
filling with the stone
it once was, my hand cold
lying so close and every year

more stars—it's natural
to work the swing shift
feel my way back and the light
from all the stars at once
useless, giving out, is rock again
and between each star the sun
still looking for its echo
for a sun weaker than itself

and calling—the distance
is the sun they must have seen
before its twin veered off
before the darkness—must have seen
the return as nothing but light
and glory, glory, the only sound
from my eyes, from my arms and calling.