that doesn’t gasp at the wind of your eyes or bend to the lilt of your crooked mind
is not equipped to grace your orbit
All the anyones who cut & salted you
All the anyones who claimed to be poets without singing your curve
All the anyones who don’t look twice at your electric poise & your stoned triumphant smile & the trail of hearts you have soothed with your gravitational love
All these anyones are condemned to exist in a world that tilts (to a precise degree) away from your radiance — at an angle where the absence of you will cool them to a temperature uninhabitable —
& though I am just a lit match, fated to flare & fade in human-time, I wanted to add my voice to the chorus of stars that continue to sing in your honor, little bean queen. Earth moon.