I see the man making models of planets in his meticulous, scienc-y basement then lining them up like a photographer arranging and rearranging a family portrait,

Mercury, you stand here…Jupiter if you could squeeze in by the ping-pong table

Or the final run and podium judgment of the Westminster Dog Show

It is a neat trick

Of human folly to think we can order the objects floating in an infinite sky, make them feel smaller than they are, more manageable

When even the moon is beyond us

Its insistent pull and reflective splendor

Missed so often in the ordinary

Night sky

As we pack all the objects of this solar system

Between us

Furniture against the door of Love