The chalkboard was a galaxy
in a cardboard box with words formed
from a thousand stars

pulled like iron
to a magnet that was crumbling
and guided by a hand

covered with snow.
I rode the letters and dove
into the black that surrounded

what the lines told us
to know; I imagined myself an astronaut
assigning order to the chaos

between comets or exploring
the recesses of the classroom
as it floated past the clouds.