Alin Sengjaroen | Star-eaters

Moons eat stars for breakfast and dine on shooting meteors as desserts. They cannot shine like a star. Uneven bumps amongst the dark. Floating like a calloused planet. Circling along the orbit, respecting the construct of gravity.

But I do shine. I am smooth. I have a ring. Yet I do not eat. I do not dine. Still, I am a Moon. I was born a Moon and the human-scientists will always see me as a Moon.

Or am I the very star they eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?

At least, to me, the stars are like a home that wraps around me–allowing me to shine my flat land, showing off calloused scars shaped like a bunny. Am I a star dressed as a Moon? Am I a Moon dressed as a star?

I asked the Sun–to which they told me:

I am a cosmic being. Sure, a star but I am mostly Sun.

I bid them farewell. And asked the stars to deliver my letter to Pluto who rests at the edge of the universe. We used to be twins–not by blood. Upon the next three million four hundred sixty-eight thousand light years, their message relayed to me:

I am a rocky planetary. They can disregard me as a small stone or a disorientated boulder. But still, I am mostly made of rocks.

But if one day, there landed a piece of meteor on my back. Bumps against my furnished face. Slowly becoming the Moon they wanted. Will those stars continue to shine upon me? I asked the stars.

They did not respond. They never respond. They glow without being asked to. They radiate the spaces they share with others. They flicker among the gloom. Unlike the Moons that refused. Who saw me as an abnormality. Even when served on a glittering platter. They packed their gleaming cutleries.

The stars were like the Sun. The same way the Sun is a star–but they are not entirely just a star. The stars were like Pluto. Not that they’re a star–but they continue to glow despite the circumstances.

Therefore, I am a Moon of starry nights. A Moon of bunny marks. A Moon that learned to shine like a star. A Star. A Moon.

So I yelled to their uneven faces:

Eat me if you dare, star-eaters.