Most days,
I pay it no more mind than a brick door stop.
Today, I squint to see the orange orb
spew golden arcing filament
across the Atlantic morning sky,
everything's in spin.
Before it's too late, I look away,
blue spots with yellow flame fringe
linger.

Past the sparse hackles
to redden my scalp,
warming sidewalks and bones
baking the dirt in a clay flower pot
softening street tar.
Lizard claws cling to warm stucco,
he twists his blue neon tip tail
and rolls one eye in the socket.

What, I’m on some clump in space?
Can’t see it, don’t believe it.

Big Bang, Solar system, Sun King,
a wingless Icarus, I never see anything.
Battery-powered stream,
eclipsed by the half moon of my thumbnail.
So much depends on a flashlight beam,
that could burn to cinder
at final sundown, eternal night.

So beautiful, ultraviolet,
so brutal, ultra violent.

Imperceptibly, I pass through
and nothing changes as I do,
unless I crush some alpha mutant butterfly,
forever change everything,
everything,
everything…

01/16/2006

Author's Note: Paying attention to the big and small of it all.

Posted on 01/17/2006
Copyright © 2026 David Hill