i think a good one would be:
the sky is petty enough without us
pestering it for stars. or, relatedly:
a good star is hard to find. or somehow
under an orange rind you’ll rustle up a star. or: betelgeuse
is a hell of a way to spend a night. or
better a cluster of stars than another bad sleep.
you cannot dream with your mouth
open and catch the light of the right star.
if you stretch across a bed you will find the light
of it still across your arm like lotion.
if i exaggerate, and call attention to nothing,
it is because as of late, i’ve become 
a hard star out of focus. to catasterize, to place
among the stars, is to curse a foe with darkest ink.
imagine the galaxy as a fable of spilled milk. picture
wanting lemonade. i suppose some of these
are more idioms of space. a shame that any time of year,
whatever you are feeling, the sky at night 
remains the same. or what i mean to say is i’m never sure
the season, but yes, i dream of her.

You won’t feel like this forever, unless

           forever is here. Follow the dark blue

blades of kale, the flat dials of sunflowers

           leading back to speech, or its underside.  

Love translated you across an ocean

           & now you cannot really come away 

or say how, exactly, your love began. 

           Was it music in the mouth, or weeping

in the blood? The ancestral body splits
           
           into water & seeds, pure syllables.