Starblossom
The dayshift my lover came to me crying
because the last of the flowering plants
down in hydroponics had died, leaving only
the vat-grown leaves and proteins to feed us,
she said to me,
“What shall we do
for love-tokens now?”
I pressed her to my chest,
and turned her face to the forward screen
where the nebula blossomed in a dozen shades
of purple and pink, green and yellow, blue and gold,
and I said to her,
“Look, my dearest,
the stars are making love.”