Plastic box

Muzzle to the sky
The way we were taught to hold
A rifle sitting,

We watch the parade
Necks up till it is hurting
Gazing at the queen

Passing overhead
Train flying proud as a flag,
Indigo-dyed and

High and dark and long 
Till it hovers in the sky
All till sunrise hours.

The royalty’s cape
Is weaved with silver beadings
With generous shine

That touches us with
What light there is at midnight.
We are grateful and

Awestruck like insects
Fogging up the plastic box
And the needle holes

Standing between us
And the galaxies beyond.
Nameless beautiful

Stars, how we breathe in through you
And wonder for whom
You shine then die,

Quietly twinkling without 
Our notice. We can
Count our expended

Rounds and find the hole we shot
To the pricks of bright,
Watching tracer routes

Of our targets in the box 
Of our universe.
We breathe heavy like

Sleeping children, rest easy,
Knowing we have left
A wound on this sky

That shivers distant, pretty 
Like stars or the queen
Watching from above.