26 Mar 2026: Meridian

along the big arm

that spilled the silvery-blue motes

over the meridian,

there are lightning scars

like the ones you see in the tree line

or guiding blood flows in your fingers—silhouttes

of mathematician laughter.

the arm sweeps over the firmament.

it is a caress so sweet and slow

that we never even notice it.

as if asleep beside a lover

who wakes from a nightmare

to pace her hand over your shoulder

for her comfort in your presence—and you

dream of fossil fuels

powering rockets

to the moon.