Night sky, a star-spray of mother’s milk,
but also points of light as bright as your last kiss
In its spray certain densities exist —knots in space.
In them space insists that nebulae twist and pulses race.
In them you might even make out articulations of another’s face,
of one concealed behind a veil of exploding lace.
Attitude is key, and grace.
But when Andromeda and the Milky way collide
things will change, status quos will not abide
so, in terms of hearts, there would be tears.
But you needn’t be concerned for us
since astrophysicists who’ve counted well
tell us this collision will not happen
for billions of years.
I thank time, this time,
for stalling at least
one ache it bears.