sonnet for a lover in orbit

    Tonight's the closest Earth has been to Mars.
    Haven't heard a thing from you since that last
    bewildering missive: "Thank you. I must go."
    It's enough to try the patience of the stars,
    honestly, your melodrama, your sense of woe,
    worlds colliding every time we'd past
    each other in the corridor, pretending
    not to know what we know, our craggy
    skins, our scars. True, my heart's been mending
    into a kind of shape, my hair's grown shaggy
    and I bite my nails. Not that you'd care
    these days, whatever planet you're on now,
    far away as hell for all I know.
    Don't come swinging back this time. Stay there.

27 August 2003   22:52 hours
hope { } hy(hytechbrid)brid