Moon of a far planet

a dim egg-blue moon looms low in the subarctic sky

cloudless and free for once of the haze breezing in

from the boreal blazes this spring evening

you amble back from the corner store

wondering for the nth time why you moved across the country

to work from home in this alien northern town

that faint nail clip moon looks like a movie poster moon

like an airbrushed cliché anchored above a far planet’s

violet sky opulent with constellations

a planet where some dozen corpse-mongers

hoard more in their dead fists than the billions of the barely living

whose pockets vibrate and snitch on their whereabouts

a planet where ancient giant insects still hunt

among the soft-shelled refugees from the latest Ice Age

a planet whose skies writhe with ghost lights each night

a planet where soldiers storm homes to stop sharing

where funerals for music teachers feature no music

where only barest scrutiny gets held to dead cities

a planet where the rate at which burned land

refreshes its green screen televises a promise

that even a fire can tell a vision

a planet where in the interminable winter you stud your shoes

with screws to walk ice coated streets with a hyper spaniel

a planet no weirder nor farther than anyone’s prairie area code

with friends only close onscreen as forest fire smoke encroaches

to see the moon like this is to marvel and fear

how far our planet is from anything but our own devices