by Rodger Martin
In the pressure of the fuselage,
at this height I’ve become Jeopardy host
pushing scripts for an audience no one sees.
Science for one thousand. My portal turns microscope,
its double panes a slide and the Earth out there,
holy in its ghost of curve, demands comprehension.
Farther off, ruddy in November setting, the sun’s
as disinterested in the roast of this planet,
the answers to any question, as we in the tardigrades–
the empires of the mites—the waterbears:
mighty hosts rising and falling among the continents
of our pores while we skim keratin from our nails.
A sheen of lucent cloud covers the Eastern coast
beneath which humanity’s dendritic lights emerge,
fibers posting each other, pulsing for synapse.
This new growth, this current cellular mould
manifests itself encompassing the globe, but, what if
it becomes host, dying for Mama Earth our MILF
a clothes tree trying her latest fashion—us—checking the fit,
piles of old design, strata mounting in the corner.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing