In the moment of ardor a storm hits,
sperm finds ovum in a quick embrace,
future destroyed to create another
wind whipping rain like a blacksnake
across the backs of chain-gang laborers,
sky so full of love it can’t help but hate
endings with invisible beginnings.
Look at how the planet churns space
with its fiery grip on all the black holes
galaxies require to be born . . .
If we weren’t this high, honey, whadaya
suppose this energy spinning its wheels
would do without the firmament ‘s floor
but swallow dice rolling snake eyes . . .
(28 August 2011)
copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander