Early morning,
Jupiter and Venus
meet face to face,
frozen, a second before
collision. The sky glows
a burnt orange, an echo
of the collision that
could have been.
Closer than the
band of my ring,
lustrous like the
diamond on it, still,
they long to close the
365 million miles.
Jupiter and Venus
lay next to each other
on a Queen. Jupiter
slumbers, rumbles
quietly next to Venus
while she counts the
fluttering eyelashes.
Early morning,
Venus and Jupiter
are 17 arc minutes away,
seems like an arm’s reach,
but he is so far. Lost
in a dream, frantically
fastened to her waist,
she counts his heartbeats.
Floating beneath sown lights,
between the sounds of
the sleeping city and
the hum of the heater.
She gazes upwards,
finding faux constellations.
Venus wakes Jupiter
pressing her lips to
the soft skin of his face,
dawn light pours red
through the blinds
as Jupiter and Venus collide,
for what feels like the first time
all over again.