So there's a violent cataclysm—
a pulverizing nothing
pulsing away
at the galaxy's center.
unrepentant caterpillar
chewing a hole
in your prom night corsage.
What is courage
but fear acknowledged?
What's the fire of hell
but god's love—rejected?
To be wounded is
to be blessed,
but even that's
too obvious.
When pressed,
to affirm all the beauty
and the horror
with a smile—
to be content
to have a wasted
supernova
for a soul—now that
should keep your fact-
checkers busy
and employed—at least
for a little while.
