Pluto
Once I wrote a love
song to a planet.
I only fall in love with
things that I can’t hold on to:
everything and nothing,
things too big and too small,
things made of gas and
dust, so broken they shatter
when I try to touch them.
I can’t seem to fall
in love the way that would end up
happily ever after.
Happily ever after doesn’t exist
outside the asteroid belt.
Pluto: the
non-planet, the
dwarf, left out in the
cold. Pluto
sits alone and begins to
crumble under
the exhaustion of
existence.
Once I fell in love
with a planet
because I saw my
reflection in the silvery mist of
its gas and dust. After all,
gas and dust are
made up of
broken pieces, so I fit
right in.