tripping on constellations
the weather seldom matches her heart,
in her upside-down world.
she walks on fallen skies littered
with half-buried stars,
and almost trips on Vela,
while the tide lashes its salted tongues
in mock laughter, umvewihillion miles
above her head.
the moon has just gone, drowned
into the vaporous ground before her,
sunken and acting Atlantis to little things
scurrying over this ground-sky.
she ignores them, and proceeds
to brush off stardust from her plain
white nightgown, and waits for the sun.
but the sunrise is again, without
a grand entrance,
a dead fish floating to the surface.