Orbiter
Tired stars navigate the tiny storms teeming on the far shores
Of your waist, tired of waiting for my stationary third world
To rotate, so you filled it with oxygen
And watched as it floated away

How could you do that to me?

I start to relate as the meridians trace lines
Straight up through your face
And I orbit around your personal space
Tunnel out through your psychology to escape

How could you do that to me?
These are the sirens having come to test your hope
Saying, "Oh, we've sewn stones in your throat
Thrown you overboard the boat
Now float."