CHANGE MY MIND

So there's a violent cataclysm—

a pulverizing nothing  

pulsing away

at the galaxy's center.

So there's a shivering, 

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 kiss and a smile—

to be content 

to have a destroyed

supernova 

for a soul—

now that should keep 

your fact-checkers 

busy and employed—at least

for a little while.