Poem – OJ 287

(Image credit: NASA)

We’re simultaneously Ahab and his whale, you and I. Like the dance between two orbiting black holes, we perpetually cling on verge of devouring one another. We stand by the edge of the abyss watching it stare back. Do we jump? Perhaps someone pushed us in already and our hubris is about to slam into us. You are the taste of chlorophyll after a schoolmate tripped me; I am the smell of naphthalene and the stale dust of old age.

The black hole, the white whale – whatever monster Nietzsche dreamed up will swallow us whole and spit out our bones.


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