From orbit, the sunset is an egg breaking
into a black pan.
I count countries, pockmarked in the dark
by city lights. Pick out
familiar coastlines
like profiles of relatives. My eyes
meet the mediterranean,
its sea a rorschach blot in which
I see wings. A crab. The inside
of a mouth.

To the west, my sister is sleeping
on a dark drifting speck. The clouds
over her are barely visible through
the black and blue
membrane which now, splits
as the sun spills over the other side
of the earth, piercing the black
with light.