Celestial Infernal

The Sun hangs faithfully in the white sky.
The Moon, suffers, bearing its counterweight.
The Sun blisters the red skin on my thigh,
the Moon’s own comfort tries to compensate.

Stars coo, planets weep, the universe cracks
under the weight of the thigh burning sun.
Unwanted geocentric parallax.
The meteor undoes; it’s measure spun.

The Sun explodes, heat dividing again,
slicing the interstellar connections.
The Milky Way is merely a bloodstain.
The thigh has no clear source of protection.

The sun’s string snaps, unbalancing the moon.
The satellite whirrs, landing in a dune.