mercury opposition

Feathered bush with brushtail ends.
It makes the seasons alarming flashing lights that
announce only the brief exchange of gifts.
Not the northern star’s bright silvered guide –
road to some savior; magic mystic madonna virgin child.
His belly smooth; no need to cut the cord.
These nights I pray to neither.
Not the northern star nor the red-green garlands strung,
only to the nights peach Mars.
It moves closer, tilting on its axis –
crimson beating star signal sent  -
    present to the past against all opposition.
Shoot the crimson flare of emergency.
You see it from your window as the stars fall closer,
me falling further apart,
both we wishing only to rewind.