You are not the Sun,
with warmth enough to kill.
Not Mars, redly belligerent.
Not the Earth, hosted by human molecules.
Not Venus, beautiful by breathing of disappearance.
Not Saturn; you don't have enough rings
to keep you inside, bounded, decorated.
You are the Moon, dull face
to influence the ebbs of confusion,
embraced by longing to belong;
not too far, not too close, always there,
attached to the Earth's sky
like a toy hanging from the tree.