Patrick Moore
Lunar submersible
Stomach like a wooden globe drinks cabinet
Face wrapped around a little glass window
Squinting at diamonds.
Underpants like a sleeping bag
Out under the stars
In a tent full of black and white memories
Of moonwalks and space probes.
And I see his mass expand over the years
Along the Herzsprung-Russell curve
So when Patrick - now Red Giant trousers
Throws off his gases, recklessly towards his neighbours
Will he turn into a dwarf? A small core? A bean?
Or maybe all that is left
Shall be his monocle.
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