Theia, a hypothetical protoplanet, is central
to the Great Impact Theory of the Moon's origin.
That you were our meant earth, & not this other
flawed marble we crawl over, cling to, dream
in fits of leaving—surely this suspicion
once wove Atlantis through us, carved out Eden
between our ribs.
That we are shattered creatures,
our sacred texts assure us, but not why
the iron that marks our blood is restless, seeking
some heart beyond our hearts.
No second impact
remains to reunite our cores: Lagrange
holds only pebbled mercies, shooting stars
not worth the wishing on.
Come summer midnights
when song dogs serenade your final shard,
we cannot help but raise our faces also
to that remotest of reflected blessings
& howl you, Theia, as the home we lost.