She's millions of miles away
now, her wings stretched wide
embracing the galaxy

my gypsy orb, my earth
in microcosm. I feathered
our nest, but all my warbling
cannot bring her
back. What is this
evolution that divorces
white from yolk? Circles
concentric, ranged beyond the space
now come between us

like their Dyson shell, I turn
inward, wanting, waiting my inevitable
burn up by the sun that
she outgrew and left behind.

(originally appeared in Mindflights, 2009)

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