Love those numbers! and yet am
helpless as a blue wave, ticketing
to sky and dawn and finally, the
seismographer’s shivering white sheet.
Nearing the end of my third revolution
across the surface of earth’s sweet startle,
I furnaced into consciousness.
The vast oceans felt my love,
received the body blow of particles
stretched to a trio of trillions.
At my birth-site the numbers kept coming,
my fathers pleased and amazed and afraid.
A crimson core of theft, the one percent
stolen from the unblinking sun.
The oceans tilted to my curiosity,
spun slowly while I faded, loved me
in my blindness, begged me not to summon
my sister’s laughing fury.