i didn't have a baby to name after you so i picked a constellation instead;
the church bells rang at my blasphemy
but they couldn't cut through the city pollution.

neither could the stars,
so i never had to see you.

now you're just a face on the milk carton,
journeying to the neverending horizon -

the moon said hello to your crumpled corpse when i asked for it to deliver a good-bye.