I.
The moons of every planet
seem to live on your face
like they don’t know that your skin
isn't the Milky Way galaxy;
spiraling light-years
of 400 billion stars.
Devoid of oxygen.
But your skin is the Milky Way–
where the space between stars is filled
with the interstellar medium
of your cheeks.
And the nebulae themselves
have been pulled out of your lungs.

II.
It’s the nighttime,
dripping from your eyelashes,
and it’s the sunlight learning
the curves of your face
again and again.
It’s the myriad of planets
that have yet to be discovered.

III.
They call beauty spots “lunares”
and I call you my moon.
But every morning,
you are still there
as the sun rises.
And you are still there
as it falls.