The moons are cold. Let us dance
across the icy rings, pretend
we are aliens, or gods
in a snowball fight in fields of gas –
nibbling on radioactive waste
and shimmering in crystal –
quick, the starlight fades.
The moons are cold. Let us dance
across the icy rings, pretend
we are aliens, or gods
in a snowball fight in fields of gas –
nibbling on radioactive waste
and shimmering in crystal –
quick, the starlight fades.