Saturday, January 13, 2007


dark matter draws me home
a collapse of sorts
says the scientist
a matter of folding in

the universe is tug of war
between going out and staying
home and it has made a black
hole in my couch

it’s not anti-matter I’m
after but dark energy
to push me past
the event horizon

or just to the event
where I wear the same
black dress and henhouse smile
money passes hand to hand

and everyone expands
I eat mashed potatoes
from a champagne flute
people peer over my head

for the next best galaxy
as they would a rusty
tractor left in a yard
the valets won’t touch

my pick-up but they don’t
know it’s from the future
or the pre-earth past
fueled by material so dark it’s

invisible, a divining rod
in search of water where I live
at the end of a one-way
street in a white house

when I enter home
crawls into my lap
and the scene, you know,
goes dark


Erin O'Brien said...

My couch is a world unto itself.

You want to come into my couch world?

You can come into my couch world if you want.

Amy said...

That means I'd have to leave mine. But yours sounds dee-lish.

Lori Compton said...

Sometimes I think it must be easier to write poetry than to understand it.
By the way, look how you've inspired me...
I'm a blogger!!

Amy said...

Lori, what's your blog URL?

grovewood boy said...

The Couch is comforts us before it claims us.....I resist it (when I can).......

K-Oh said...

Henhouse smile--- I like that.