the planets out of orbit.
They don't know
what now is the center of their revolution.
My moons' circles have changed-
adjust to the cosmic disturbance.
They pull the tides in different ways-
The ebb is lower, and the waves:
A surf softer than I'd seen,
not to crash, but
dissolve silent now,
fewer and farther between.
What sun must I now seek?
Whose light will warm my face and shores?
How will I know when it is day or night--
when will I sleep?
The stars have moved from their familiar sky,
asking if I recall their place
before you threw them out of line,
altered their celestial pace.
