by devin wayne davis

a poet

to a sun,
burnt out

1, 825, 000, 000
days from now …
how could it be that a flame
turns our world

so gold,
so blue …

and red …
then black?

for so many, many
miles in every direction

… until
some particular spot:

between two stars …

and planets,
illuminated by other
suns, the farther
we’re away–

since this universe isn’t just
expanding, but pulling apart.

space is making room …
as a galaxy visits, crashes,
moves in with us.

for some
not too distant beacon gone
supernova, the moment

then, eight minutes …
Why hasn’t it

dusted the chalk off
earth? today, a bee

… keeping
the holy opportunity

1 thought on “radius

  1. A great interconnection of images! A mind-expanding depiction of the poetic act via the Icarus myth, modern-day astronomy, and a pollinating bee; the latter leading the poet’s cross-fertilizing way out of destruction. Don’t we all burn ourselves to a crisp during creation, and then somehow rejuvenate to carry on?

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