in the sky's tarnished mirror.
The city, bleary with heat. Each day the eyes
of my cat assemble a more precocious gold.
We press our blackened flesh against a sky so bright. I hold
her in my arms at the fading windows.
We gaze together at nothing in particular,
down an avenue that leans so far her tawny eyes
gutter out. In my laboratory, immortal cancer cells
divide and divide. The pomegranates
are almost ripe. Some splintered open the way
all things fragment—into something fundamental.
Either everything's sublime or nothing is.