Arthur Rimbaud to Ground Control

Two moons maybe three
divided by the window glass
but as it really was
back in reality
the air the color of wind
& your eyes
when you think about it
rippling like trees or
beer money
in Sanskrit
variations on a forgotten theme
in the rain
when it isn’t raining
along the spine of a
pale orchid moon
reflected in a nervous
tide pool
where the stuttering seams
in mirrored velvet
quietly embrace
the captive glow