Ode to UFOs
This UFO poem is only published here.
Ode to UFOs
Ode to a night sky teeming
with flying things in layers,
bats below and saucers highest,
triangles and shapes
you haven’t named yet.
You think by naming you will own
and understand, but you won’t.
Down here you’re occupied
by slamming doors and coughs,
sunburns, and whether
you need more dog food,
but your dogs already know
lords of the heavens
will not covet here,
where we invent lines to map them,
where we seek to own and say.
Up there are nameless stars
and byways that stretch millennia
and comet paths through black,
all without lines or boundaries,
all unowned but inhabited.