toward the infinite graces of saturn
camera pulls away
from the shot:
cropped edges
expand exponentially,
until we find ourselves
in a bath of mercury.
the little lens
moves on
carrying us away—
an inquisitive
human tentacle
fingering into space,
until we find
our goddess
beckoning us
to rest and fuck.
and beyond
a cobalt
bacterial ball,
and passed
an extinguished
sanguine sphere,
we meet our
bloated brother—
his cycloptic ruby eye
watching over
his meager brethren.
but miles from him
our sister invites
us to dance and spin,
to come inside
her rings of gold and
red and trace the
sky at six miles
per second.
Email: brooklyn303@attbi.com
