brushed up on some supernal
sublimation. An asteroid
is falling toward the planet
packed in ice
big as a big building
reports the flustered analyst.
~
it’s little old me: the dream of the grunt
who flexed in cathedrals of concrete
who deafened in
hydraulic hush
to bring home the bacon
and Oleoline.
~
for my forbear labored deep
in a hospital basement
fed biohazards to an incinerator.
Objects issued from the hole,
unidentified
bodies above—revised,
bagged and vanished
down a blind aluminum chute
to his hands.
~
his hands that gripped
the hips that dropped
the egg that met
the fish that struck
the match in me
I’m burning
and they say the rock will miss
the earth, but just.