Expanding and contracting like a nova
To a nebula of red alarm,
A blinding point of unstable giants—oxygen and gas—
The anointing molecules,
A cross of ash
And chrism of lips
I can press to my forehead, now, imagining it.
And—Isn’t that a kind of joy,
When you hold it
To your mind like that?
That sad, beautiful star
Falling through the universe, flashing
Before it dies—bright stroke
That once spit you, human,
From its convoluted core
And lit a torch to the future
Like lovers rapturing do, licking
The lap of death, flaming
Oblivion with burst light,
A final streak, a slash
Of seed against the black
Before they disappear completely?