Celestial bodies

Why ask me how you would compare?
Women are not like thumbprints or snowflakes.
You’re like the celestial bodies.

One is a red giant, another a white dwarf, but
when you’re burning in the halo there’s nothing
but you, her, and the great fire, alluring
you as if you were a moth against it.

Or one is a comet, cold and long, that collides with
such hellish power it shatters your every layer;
another is a meteor that sparkles
for an instant and plunges into the sea.

Or one is a black hole ending time and space;
another a dark and lonely exoplanet;
or one, she was a gentle moon
that set.

But you

I could only compare to a solar system.

Yes, your legs are Mercury, and Neptune your head,
Mars is your waist, Jupiter and Saturn your breasts,
Uranus your neck, and when I touch the asteroids
I feel your spine shifting like the rock.

Pluto is your eye and all the Oort your mist of hair,
and in your Venus there’s a fire unlike any star, and
when your moon sets I wait for it to rise again.

Though many stars burn hot and bright I’ve
never called them home.

Slender star

Slender star, burn
bright and unrequited;
mingle and never touch,
be however far I’ve gone
much farther still to go,
burn me if I draw near,
consume me if I live,
and do not mourn me when
I die.