Pink Moon

They say it’s a coincidence
that the first mission sending humans to the dark side of the moon in 54 years
launched just before the pink moon rose.

They say there’s no good explanation
for why space rocks the size of cantaloupes are crashing through the roofs of homes
all over North America and Europe.
.
There’s causation, correlation, synchronicity, divine intervention, take your pick.

I push-pin it all to a corkboard and wind red thread between exhibits:

—plume of fire reflected in the waters around the space center
—meteorite bouncing around a bedroom in Houston, site of mission control
—full moon hiding behind Iowa clouds, but I have faith it’s pink
—view of Strait of Hormuz from space

I add a crayon drawing of last night’s dream about my mother on a plane wobbling in the air.

I’m not solving the crime of coincidence.

I’m not achieving translunar injection burn.

I’m singing fireball in the sky until I blast apart from the pull of the Earth.