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In Orbit
September 29, 2018
Why am I trapped in an endless circle?
asked the golden planet, purple cloak clasped around his neck.
Why am I scavenging for gravity?
questioned the envious moon, removing her salvaging gloves.
Why am I held in place by strings?
inquired the irrational belt, scattered by space.
Why am i everywhere?
whispered the dark matter.
Why do i envelope all things matter
under my cold colorless hue?
Why do i breathe like a criminal?
After all,
Someone has to clean up.
Why do I paint my debris?
screamed the dying star, organs tumbling out.
Why do I have an appetite?
cried the hopeless blackhole, clutching a splattered spoon.
But,
whispered the dark matter once more,
Someone has to clean up.
© Emily M., Milford, CT
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