Satellites orbit,
swirling, drifting like
warm cells around
a yolky ovum.

They are metallic,
and feel heat
and feel invincible.

And I am free-falling
and I know this.

And have you feared death, friend?
Or life, or love, or loss?

Have you traversed
the circumference,
dreaming of the black void beyond,

Dotted with stars, like petrified still tears?