Horsehead Nebula

It sips             this strange air
dips             its long brow
dangles                 its head
like a forearm         weeping the length of itself        

It has fallen         as if through ice     
into this world        of dying grass

I dream                 my arm into
the long glove         of its head
and run                 through shopping centres
a false centaur        shrieking Look! Look!

I dream                it rises like nebula
a cocoon                 of stars    
or hangs                 in my wardrobe
neatly tying            shoelaces with its delicate lips

It has come        to taste this place
beyond here         its weight is nothing
except that        of a billion new planets

Tomorrow        it will withdraw
like an arm         into a sleeve
and take off        this world
leave us                 to our garish fading light