Tarkovsky (The Second Stop Is Jupiter)

The eternal son runs to the mother

She smoothes his brow and bids him

Drink from her well of hammered mist

Too long sweet lad, fog rises from the ground

The falling soot is just the dust of a shimmering gem

The black moon shines on a lake

White as a hand in the dark

She lifts the lamp to see his face

The silver ladle of his throat

The boy, the beast, and the butterfly.

The sea is a morgue, the sea is a morgue, the needle and the gun

These things float in blood that has no name

The telegraph poles are crosses on the line

Rusted pins, not enough saviours to hang

She blesses the road, the robe and the road and the noose of vine

And waits beneath the triangle

Formed by Mercury, an evening star

The fifth planet with its blistering sore

And the soaring eagle above and to the west

The boy, the beast and the butterfly.

She walks across a bridge of magpies

Her hollow tongue fills the brightness with water

And in the wink of an eye

One planet with a glittering womb

One white crow one diamond head

Big as a world, big as a world

The boy, the beast, the butterfly

Hovering

Above the sore, the blistering sore

of the fifth planet

Wait, stop, don't forget, don't forget,

How I played with you

How I kissed away your tears

Don't forget

The white mouth of the son smiles

this beautiful tunnel, a seed, a flight.