Seven murky purple stones on my dresser:
we found them in a spaceship rocket journey,
and you left them by the pod that I will lie in,
frozen for the next month. Frozen blue and purple,
I will roll like these stones from space,
warbling greyly on the nightstand, and
leaving my stony trails in the pale blue polymer
enamel, and I will wait for you to come back.

Around the ship, we have left each other
secret tokens, to make up for words
that can't be spoken, or not yet, but that
can not be left unspoken either. Look--
the stars are shooting past at light speed,
and I have noticed nothing for the last hour
so much as your hands, and raised eyebrows,
and the fragile grace you can't shake,
in my frozen memory, recorded in our stones.

You take the blue ones: stones from Neptune
are for dreams, and you need those, on Earth,
where the gravity can just barely clutch your 
half floating feet, as they drift to meteor.
The orbit is set to descend slowly, and I 
will pick you up in a silver jet and take you
to the secret launch site. Next time I will not
leave you to the dull Earth like this. Next time
I will keep you in zero-g: we'll never fall.




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