The sun, going about her daily chores,
glimpses a new star in the sky,
one smaller than herself,
yet strangely familiar.
Used to catching her image first in puddles,
then growing larger in lakes,
she at first only sees a stranger,
then catches herself
spread in the moon's reflection
across thousands of miles of sky.
Hypnotized by the beauty
of this strange new view of herself,
she can't ignore it,
sneaking looks time after time;
she can't take her eyes off herself.
Daily, as the moon moves about in the sky,
the sun catches tantalizing glimpses
of herself from multiple angles.
By then, the sun imagines herself to have
the moon's full attention,
claiming it as her mirror.
Like Snow White's wicked stepmother,
the sun asks this mirror repeatedly,
methodically, almost hypnotically,
"Who is the fairest of them all?"
The moon answers all questions
bringing the sun back time and again,
puppet on a string
seeking a definitive answer.
By day, the moon untangles
its strings of moonlight,
puts out its nets.
Their dialog moves sideways;
the sun's questions, always direct,
glance off the moon;
the moon's answers slip around behind it
as the sun tries to get a better look
at what the moon might be saying.
Who was created in whose image?
Which came first,
the chicken, the egg, or the yolk,
small sun caught up in the quicksilver lies