Violet

Do you like night better, or morning?

you ask,

turned towards me though

it's too dark for eyes or lips

only blurred shapes, outlines

against pink horizon and just-hidden sun.

I don't know the answer. I dodge,

Oh...both. Look, there's Venus.

I point below the midnight-blue

the band of indefinite sky

where other lights disappear in rotation

a neither zone, it contains

only the star that is not a star.

You, impatient as the moon:

Okay, but which one more?

It's an easy question.

Just pick one, already.

I want to say,

I am a planet – I wander in violet

but the light decides, changes, disappears.