I fell in love with your horoscope, nestled into your Taurus moon, melted at your first house
Venus and Mercury kissing — translating into quicksilver wit, someone loved of love, soaking it up like an eggplant does oil.
I liked your sixth house Jupiter
in Sagittarius, lucky! And your
Mars in Virgo — getting what you want through service.
Now I find I looked up the wrong year! Our horoscopes don’t match.
Your Sagittarius moon doesn’t touch my planets. Your Pluto-Venus-Jupiter t-square suggests descent through the underworld to love and growth.
All year my horoscopes have told me something’s ending — needs to
or whatever’s coming next won’t begin.
After all this time
I’ve fallen out of love. I don’t like silence, and I don’t
like your horoscope.
Elizabeth Greene is the author of two collections of poetry, The Iron Shoes (Hidden Brook, 2007) and Moving (Inanna, 2010), as well as the editor of and contributor to We Who Can Fly: Poems, Essays and Memories in Honour of Adele Wiseman (Cormorant, 1997), which won the Betty and Morris Aaron Prize for Best Scholarship on a Canadian Subject in 1998. She has poems forthcoming in Untying the Apron, edited by Lorri Neilsen Glenn, Shy: The Anthology, edited by Rona Altrows and Naomi Lewis, Poet to Poet Anthology, edited by Elana Wolff, and Planet Earth Poetry Anthology, edited by Yvonne Blomer.
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