they say Pluto is no longer a planet
that it got too big for its boots
but those boots looked good on her
and she looked good in my hands
and we sat small in space,
my body cupping hers, a boundary to the dark unknown
her fingers in orbit around mine
our lips spinning away from our cider to collide in the night
she stole words through the dark
offering me a share of her slumber
but I drifted away full of stars
left her asleep, unexplored
trailed my own cheek down to stardust
and … where were we both in the morning?
writing love songs to the moon?
love poem for Pluto is the title poem of Indigo’s first small poetry collection ‘writing love songs to the moon’
Photo: NASA
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