Venus

For my Emma Caroline, thank you for the lovely walk this evening

how far is it to Venus?
she smells like expensive
shampoo and fries she
wears my gloves two
sizes too big and jeans
and sneakers peeling away
at the toes like bananas
but they are purple and
she refuses anything
new

it is bright, how big is it?
her breath escapes as we
walk clouds of ghosts
evaporating in the thin
night she wants to be with
me and throws thoughts
of distant planets out like
fishing lines

Venus bobs in the expanse
of space constant
unyielding a
dense fleck in the
conversation

I pull at her line
and say

it is far, it is as big as
us combined and then
much more

she reaches for my hand
and the white loose knit
of the glove conforms to
my palm and we walk
together ghost air wrapping
thin arms around us

the silence speaks
in points of starlight
between me and
her and there is
truly nothing else
that needs to be

said