Planets of pale color
With rings of
Icy sugar,
Flecked like the pinpricks
Of stars
Crystalline and sharp,
Pockmarked with moon craters
Of microscopic size,
Drowning in a wash of
Milky Way.
Space Exploration,
Or exploration of space,
With curved metal
That lifts the planets
Thoughtfully to a black hole
Then retreats.
Dust and particles
Scattered
In the swirl of
Not cosmos
But lactose.
Suddenly
Alarum!
The hatch closing?
An incoming meteor?
No,
Just the hollow echo of Earth technology
Telling you
"Time to leave"
Or you’ll be even later
To class.
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