Lightyears ago,
you promised me the moon
but I became her instead

The crowd-noise doesn’t reach her
it’s my face etched there,
stolid and circumspect through waning crescent and waxing gibbous 

I raise the tides in a lover’s sway,
tossing the starfish head-over-heels and back again

I’m not able to see the galaxies, though 
my face is fixed and dirt-bound
silvery light reflecting beetles and rocks 

It’s lonely over the ocean
and I strain my eyes to the edges of their hollows
hoping to catch a glimpse of a star or blinking satellite 

I know what it is to orbit endlessly

One day I hope to fall,
for the cosmos to discard me for wanting too much,
or for being too dull maybe 

I will give myself to you then in an explosion of stardust,
to be swallowed up by a yawning blackhole