The non-planet, poor Pluto,
Circling far out and forgotten,
I cast my thoughts around you,
Knowing you are like many here,
Too insignificant to be noticed,
And yet, still worthwhile, for sure.

I caress the cold of Neptune,
Her super speed winds whip by,
She has no thought for me, too busy,
As is her sister, Uranus, circling,
Unaware that I, or others, even exist,
Yet, we are made of the same stuff,
Stardust, so exotic, so varied; so us.

My thoughts come leaping back,
Arcing around the rings of Saturn,
Slipping between sparkling icy dust,
Navigating the dark reaching fingers,
Stretching impassively from their host,
Guiding my eye to the little moons,
Knowing that life might thrive there.

I somersault away to King Jupiter,
He used to wander, he battled hard,
Casting out the rogue gas giant,
Clearing the way for the rocky worlds,
Giving life to us all, before drifting back,
Cajoled by Saturn, his anger still rages,
The red spot storm churning, his moons,
Observing, as Jupiter takes on all comers.

And we, the rocky four, so grateful,
As Jupiter snaffles the debris, holds it,
Or hurls it away, so we live, we learn,
Our inner sisters too hot, brother Mars,
Too cold, for now, but one day, yes,
As we begin to bake, Mars awaits,
To welcome us for a million years, or so,
A blink of an eye, universally speaking,
But home has hope, hope offers life,
Unlike our unwanted distant cousin,
The non-planet, poor Pluto.

©Paul M Chafer 2015

Her silver wings
dipped in gold
soared through our hearts
couragion bold

Purified election
supple selection
I am the piece you nuzzle
to complete the puzzle

Lost and lonely
the sun's warning
Pluto's cobalt seas
Uranus storming

Beyond the horizon
Beyond 4g of Verizon
Astral forming
She's the morning

We have ventured from the start
and lost sight and broken apart, but
there is a way to live without
hearing heartbeats as ticking clocks
shouting of times past;
we sat side by side through every class
and we’re not done learning. Our
gravestones are jettisoned from the shuttle,
floating there goes gravity but
even shadowed from the sun by so much,
we clutch at moons to make our own light
on our own planet. We
could keep going now,
could stop each other from falling
and keep marking our heights
against the wall even though
they stopped changing long ago
because we didn’t
and instead of accumulating
the weight of years and days
we could find a way to keep getting lighter
the farther we get from the beginning
we are finite
but there went gravity
cause of death: life

you shine bright as the sun
you're as beautiful as the
stars in the night sky

you're more brilliant
than a shooting star
more rare than a comet

i'm red with anger
much like mars
over not being in the
same room as yours

your blue eyes
draw me in and
make me feel safe
and comfortable

much like uranus
and neptune
their beautiful pale blue
color matches your eyes

don't forget the kindhearted
yellow color of venus
named after the goddess
of love aphrodite

that planet can represent
my love for you
because you're my light
in the darkness

of all space
and to end this
know that if you leave
like pluto

i'll miss you dearly
so please stay
another lightyear
and be my moon

together we'll create harmony
within ourselves
and within each other
because we're all stars

Sometimes, I wish I hadn’t just been the backseat of your car,
Intoxicated. My first drunk hook up. My first. Period.
I picture myself being champagne on Valentine’s Day.
I picture myself being you, nervous in the car, holding Starbucks
because you know I love coffee. Sometimes, I picture myself as her,
calling you a stalker and ignoring your calls,
but then I see myself. I call you beautiful,
turn you into poetry, laugh at your bad jokes,
I see myself as I become your drunk Wednesday night
when you’re sad. I see myself as I say no,
I become a “this is not a good idea”
and you a “we’ll deal with the consequences in the morning.”
We laugh because this hurts too much.
You take her out for dinner and I burrow money
for Plan B because you forgot you don’t like condoms
and clearly have no idea how children are made.
I have already named him. He has your curls and
my anxiety. He is smart. Except, I never wanted kids and
you would be a great father. Instead, you tell her
the beach reminds you of her and I cry in a McDonald’s
bathroom with my friend as relief floods through me that
the test comes negative. I stop talking to you,
move forward, meet someone new and before long
see myself becoming you. Because isn’t that the cycle?
Bad men turn good women into bad women who turn
good men into bad men. I’ll set him free so he can hurt
someone like me, and I drink red wine as I read her
poems about him and me.