Pluto’s ode to Charon

My vanilla heart churns coldness,

bleeds its nitrogen in dark lines

that slash deep into my own white plains,

its pulse sets the reverse haze

of my atmosphere, here the pellucid dazzle

of my azure sky, that seems to promise

oceans and suns, beguiles

with the shine of the first lie.

You, my silent moon, twist,

trapped with me in our tidal turns,

and I tell you again, apologetic,

that I don't know why

I must do everything backwards.

That I would unshackle you,

if I could, from this belt of ice,

to the liberty of any other galaxy,

where their nights are so lampful

that a sky might shimmer daybright,

but I have been shamed, 

and unnamed, as I am -

it is impossible -

when in this hinterland of winters,

you are my only light to see my way by.

Image of Pluto with its white heart from pixabay. Have been meaning to write about Pluto and its reverse atmosphere for a while and wanted to use the word 'lampful' in a poem.