Listening Along the Volga

Listening along the Volga
to David and Igor Oistrach
playing a Handel sonata
on a recording for two violins
with the rush of the waters
from their crystallized strings
moving in the twilight
as the foam from the waves
rises by a snow-capped night
of secret language,
I point my telescope to the stars,
and the cosmonauts rise up
like metaphors
motioning in a future poem
voiced in me as a sea vision.

They voyage to the planets
in music cresting
by the ocean’s mouth,
wanting to go up ladders
to far constellations,
carrying my words
over red mountains and plateaus
with floating grey clouds
unveiling the stars.