Whenever I go portaging in the Adirondacks
across the good-enough- to drink waters
of the Fulton Chain of Lakes, I’m less alone
when I look up at a star-studded sky
and see my six-pointed star smiling back at me.
I ride the top triangle of Saturn, Jupiter and Mars,
and install the bottom triangle made of Pluto,
Venus and the moon. It grounds me in the union
of heaven and earth, and leaves the door open
for my soul to enter when it leaves my body.
My beloved hexagram assures me it will cut
the tongues out of the Jew-haters of the world,
and reminds me I can safely go where angels
fear to tread where I will exist in standstill time.