Of Course She Misses, Miss

Of Course She Misses, Miss

 

 

Asteroids missing this planet by fractions

are not repellent: wouldn’t you say

there’s some sort of mutual attraction?

Because, when moons shine across bays,

searching with pale light so imperceptibly,

at God knows what monstrous velocity,

they cling to Mother Earth, skins to custard,

crave warm milk to make hard flesh soft.

I clocked how your fettered breasts heaved,

that time it was final, when you had to leave,

lips picket fenced against signs of grief

so tight that they felt like splintered pine.

Clutched them, double d's so bold in press,

as you pushed farewells against my chest.

Mothing, from viridescent moonlight flit,

three second swimmer, in forgetful orbit,

leaving behind all those surplus voices,

people who served up several courses,

to quench with lime a raging thirst,

or redundant did they leave there first?

A pool seldom used, once promiscuous,

where now pigeon down soft scatters

to carpet frail unbroken meniscus;

billing, cooing, parrying words thrust,

mutter distant places and wanderlust,

and never missing what was never lost.

But look, your soldiers just for sport,

tied a musket beneath your ample chest.

You feel metal tug each teasing breath,

would welcome any galloping highwayman.

to hard trigger there below them comes,

yet strive as you might, stretch all you can,

it remains beyond your sweaty thumbs,

missing by a fraction. What’s done, is done,

between green oceans we will never stare,

look back at what once was seldom there

in unborrowed cups of sugared neighbour.

It is more likely that this planet prays,

because, I’d say, it is she who is straying

into paths of asteroids and ignorant bliss:

knowing that of course she misses, miss.