Silk

Silk falls molten, breathing,
from an unknown reservoir hidden just behind the Orion nebula
You wouldn’t think silk had fingertips but it does, I’ve seen them,
trailing lines through the thermosphere
the way yours trail behind you as your boat drifts quietly

And it’s silent save for the ions dancing a glissando just too quietly to notice
but you think you hear electricity arcing at a molecular level
or maybe just the echoes that hang behind
not quite willing to recede
as you watch silk and stars reacquaint not far above the treetops