I can’t see the moon. Beyond dark tree and thought branching
out into the universe, each busy with itself – She
has locked me out, left me to fend as best I can beneath her
awesome vacant space, lit only by the garden fairylights.
Too busy for my needs, she has a chaos of new stars to teach
about the destiny of planets, constellations, souls and all
the rest that can’t be named outright in word or song,
because everyone, absolutely everyone, is running scared
that everything might well turn out to be nothing but a technicality;
an aberration of the tick-tock let’s invent whatever
seems to be a possibility and worry later if it all goes wrong.
Stars too should know how to fend for themselves, so I accept
the obvious – tonight I’m on my own with the bloody fairylights.