Transits of Venus (for Anne Marie)

Vancouver airport. I have crossed this space before,

leaving lovers -- a small planet moving slowly

over a vast and polished floor, circled by strangers.

Beyond the lounge window, grey skies, grey tarmac.

Straight white painted lines plane off across

the wide-winged delta and intersect the arc

of the horizon. I watch a train of luggage carts

cut a tangent towards me, towed through a bubble

of silence -- sound severed from me by glass --

and think of moon buggies, vehicles designed

to cross the surface of a satellite, exploring flat

grey plains, Mare Oscularum, Mare Incognita.

Transits of Venus occur perhaps too often

in my life. the inner planets, small separate

circles, cross the blazing surface of the sun

and then separate, depart to shine alone,

the wandering ones together only for a time,

contained by the bright circumference of love.

Alice Major