Because it hangs from the center of the sky,
I play there sometimes, too, far away
From you, forgetting to return
Until my own fluttering breath unsettles me
More than the spaces pulsing between stars.
For years I rose in dreams beyond
Earth’s atmosphere: each night,
As I left the mother ship to bob along
The surface of the moon, the cord
Snapped and I drifted away, pulled into
An orbit from which I couldn’t break free.
My hands reach up to grab the yoke:
It stretches down, arms glittering,
A few crumbs of creation following.