Part One
We cheated when we painted the stars
and placed fireflies in the black ink
around our canvas-planet.
A half-sky hovered in limbo as we
copied and pasted the constellations.
Nothing we’ve made is complete;
no love, no star, no road through the hills.
We smile in mirrors with half our teeth
and laugh half-heartedly at the stars
we’ve forgotten are our own failures.
A moth beats against the screen door:
“imagine us beneath a whole sky.”
We put our paints away, kiss goodnight,
and hold hands in our sleep.