Black on White

you are a page of print

unharnessed eyes crawling over you

            spiders with magnifying glasses

            feeling for your every blemish

 

you are an echo

ricocheting between Alpine peaks

            blown from a long horn, losing volume

            as you bounce into impenetrable silence

 

nobody could touch you then

 

you are an asteroid

whirling cold, pockmarked, grim

at your most distant echo of orbit

            almost forgetting as you whirl back

            gathering speed, furnacing towards

 

                        that soft bellied green planet

—with its millions of eyes like spiders

 

now gathering energy and revenge as you spin

past the sun, atomic furnace, gleeful, excited

            in anticipation of that blinding collision

 

                        their compound eyes glaciered forever

in spotless ooze

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© Johnmichael Simon

2009

.