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.
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