1835 c/o Georgia Haire

Old skeleton globes
lying there, in a state of terrible wild
so small that the edges have been found
we are surprised at what makes distant worlds
the same prison, over and over again

They were creatures of order
glowing in dependence
positioned before the Big Ruby
we see our audience
but we have yet to reach the animals

When night finally spread
the evening was a dear friend
we are lucky
we live in an eternal monument
even a man with rolled up sleeves would be welcome