I wish to live with you on a planet
at the edge of the universe. Earthly
houses, their pestilence of weed and gnome
have tired me. I wish to uproot
myself from them as quickly as I would mute
the screens of this black and white world
of Di Caprio and Winslet. Titanic
towers and princesses – the same entrapment,
the same frame, the graven
images we are meant to idolize.
I wish to live with you on a planet
at the edge of the universe. Where we constellate
the zodiac of our fates
and the geography of our feet.
And the Sun? The Sun will be an alien,
a distant star we shall point out one night
and say: It took billions of years for that light
to reach us. The Sun must be dead by now.
I wish to live with you on a planet
at the edge of the universe.
And there, where strange is now home
I can finally say to you this, this, this:
Only in your hands, stellar yet familiar, light
hands will I dissolve
and die.
—-
Migoy is currently finishing his Master’s thesis on sexuality and urban poetics at the National University of Singapore — in a city where the neon lights blanket the stars.