Jupiter is missing from my evening sky tonight,
this early evening glowing eerily,
empty of Their jollity again.
returning to the center of its pyre,
those laughing flames illuminate my face
a cheery orange, but do not light my gaze
or unfurrow my brow. my soulless mien
is older than the oceans, and at sunset
the sharks can come out, and the gleaming stars.
slower than Jupiter they awaken,
combust, contemputuous; they sing and socialize;
they laugh, cheerless; down my face they ride,
and hands in jacket pockets, by my side
stands Jupiter, reneging on a promise not to come
and with Their mighty throat they say a word,
a word of comfort but not anesthetic,
oceanic eyes reflecting the fire’s red.
my voice is failing! and my jaw is heavy;
my jaw is grinding, and their history is here,
history behind them, hissing and flexing,
a Chorus that revises as it sings,
policing and critiquing when the notes ring wrong
or the words rhyme! so brightly from Their
deific voice that embers climb into the sky
to sit among its rafters with the stars.