Venus
By D. Nurkse
Death is coming
and you must build a starship
to take you to Venus.
Make it from a catsup bottle,
a flashlight coil,
a penny, the cat’s bell,
Mom’s charm bracelet.
They say that planet is torment,
whipped by circular wind,
choked in vitriol clouds.
But no. When you get there
it is a light in the sky
and I am with you.
If you find nothing else,
borrow the pleated wing
of a winter moth,
lighter than dust.
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