to the astronaut who faked her death (1)

the gravity thing? it isn’t that scary.
the moon disappearing? just an illusion,
and the sun
a lighter flick simple
hides the brilliant orange ash
behind his back
blown on by stars who get bored
with twiddling space junk
(a satellite flipped, end over end between knuckles of one hand
big aluminum trick)

on the fridge
placed under magnet of orion
the pleasure of walk, hyphened
the dust taking tread
televised dirt
the covers to your bed
pinned by dresser drawer and couch bend
a flashlight and conversation
spinning the big colander on a stick above us
this is how it happened, you whisper,
a big bang so be careful;