chapter eight: the astronaut

I know you thought

taking space would mean

you wouldn’t have to

confess your sins.

I’d give you room

to rearrange,

disengage.

When you‘re sorted

will you show up again?

 

Sweet evader,

manipulator,

the space I found 

has no ground.

Black holes and stars

light years apart.

 

I don’t think you could

find me

where you left me;

I (quite successfully)

found my space.

You can search

the galaxies far and wide

but dust

without gravity

doesn’t leave a trace.