Sputnik and the Moon
You found me in a shadow,
By chance alone, and still.
Within a hole I came to know:
A burden; can't fulfill.
Buried nether stories,
I've welded to my spine:
Biopolitic territories,
Ancient ruins, un-divine.
I floated in that shadow,
Embracing darkness wet.
Drenching moisture—catacomb—
Until endured my Privyet.
Flickered 'hind the window glass,
Your eyes puckered in the lime,
To return and pass, iconic sass,
Greet, regurgitate its rhyme.
You saw me saunter by.
A passing pigeon cull,
Lulling dull, unknown to why,
My eyes, by yours, still pull.
A less than pass for fancy:
American tell-tale trope.
Annotations, future necromancy,
Proof for school: A dope.
Until I knew I wasn't still.
Like you, a passerby.
You—the moon—light could spill,
On I, an unused satellite.
We're meant for darkness,
Designed in light,
To be without its touch.
In spite of sight that drives our might,
Yet without you, I don't see much.
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