Jack Singer
Oct 11, 2011

She was birthed
Roaring into the world
From the smoldering
Clouds and debris
Of a solar supernova.

The Solar System
Wailed with the effort
Of her labor,
Crying and moaning
Fumes
Of toxic ashes
As her surfaces
Slowly coagulated.

At first
The molten lava plains
Of her magma
Sizzled
And shifted,
Bubbled
And stewed.

Spinning,
Turning already
On her axis,
Her cooling crust began to
Take shape,
At first
Sticking
Randomly

Together
But
Later
Clumping
Like
The fusing skull
Of a budding
Fetus.

And her bright
Pink
Flesh cooled,
Shone
No more,
Replaced
By black scabs
Of brutal scarring.

Storms
Of acidic poison
Raged in her skies,
Gaseous clouds broiling up
From openings
On her scorched
And pockmarked
Body.

Oceans flowed
And they washed
Over her skin,
Cleansing her,
Elevating her to salvation.
Waves crashed
Like powerful titans
Capable of bringing
Our little world to its knees.
They rescued
Her warped form.

Groaning she rose up
Gloriously
With the act
Of greeting
The Sun.
The new and white
Star gazed lovingly
Over her child’s horizon,
And the infant,
Wiped freshly clean
Of her burning mother’s
Cosmic afterbirth,
Opened her baby blue eye
And smiled back.



--Jack Singer

 
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