This cheery one was written while I was in grad school–no doubt, at home on a Saturday night when I was “funking” and home alone. Before I turned to Jesus.
Black and White
The screen explodes like flash bulbs
In a burnt-out room.
A somersaulting astronaut severed
from ancient space walk
orbits through galactic dust,
past dying suns and methane moons—
a fossil jettisoned on solar winds
until Red Eye Cinema shuts its lid.
The National Anthem, then a static Amen.
A big toe pushes the knob.
A test pattern contracts to a bright dot,
dims to a speck, shrinks into nothingness.
The black Cyclops winks at the viewer.