This piece originally appeared in Yes, Poetry!
Enjoy!
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Black Hole
depthless quietus,
guzzling like a drunk,
vision gets sucked
into your unborn navel,
then whirlpools of torsos
and a nova of dreams.
you ride bright landslides,
snaring creatures of stars:
red mammoths in yoked orbits,
Clydesdales of plasma
tethered to feverish pace.
your sharp cusp
butchers worlds down to gluons.
no blood left,
not even a twinkle.
whatever they saw,
hoboing through the light years,
stretches into a fast-forwarded
movie of everything—
then vanishes like a rubber band
that takes no time at all to snap
and never be.
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