Its orbit elliptical,
Its surface red and bright;
The volcano on its surface spews
a liquid white –
A mountain is falling apart and
being made new, on your face.
The planet rarely strays from its roots:
Deep hairy follicles infected,
Oozing with new matter
To make this planet, on your face.
Perhaps one day human society
Will colonize your pimple and wonder
At the oils that allowed it to exist
And use it as energy, on your face.