After the Bang, as the Gases Swirl

I keep trying
to produce a planet
that can rise in the same sky
as that level three magnitude star
you've made of yourself
But you burn too hot, too close
everything just ends up vapor
tattered clouds

Perhaps that's why its so hard to discern a shape
in this landscape
Too much subterranean activity
Too much magma
I guess I'm old fashioned
I like my stone solid
something to depend on beneath the feet

Forget about the age of Man
I can't even get Cambric
let alone launch a fish from the sea
spawn fins to hands 

And fossils are fine
if you have the time
and the perspective
to play paleontologist

But I'm afraid I've only been given
one dance in my present costume
of woman hair
and long spangled leg
I'll just end up pressed
along with the trilobites
trapped, a bit of amber you can use 
for another woman's necklace
A relic of some old religion
no one understands anymore

Turn down the volume, please
just for an instant
so I can get close enough to figure out
how to exist with you in the same sky

-- Jennifer Ley