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.