Poetry

Calibrating, 
the orgy in sky. 
Will you wish away, the 
perpetual collisions? 
 
The astronomer 
does not want to visit 
the temple, where 
the celestial bodies were making love; 
on the walls. 
 
Sunflowers shedding 
the petals. Want to change 
the orientation. Moon-bitten 
now amorous in dark.