Seek a whole new sun,
a heavenly body still magnetically breathing
and breeding oxygen and carbon and bone.
Would I know if I were strangled by aether?
A blanket so cold and tight, crashed on a mountain.
A starry, packed-snow night
hushed frozen; her eyes open and blue like ice
would *clink* like marbles and bounce.
Glass transitions of spectacular polymer hosts
on a Russian frontier still uncontested and dark.
For now we survive on decay and ground shine—
ancient heat and memories of blinding, towering romance,
whiteless egg, supercritical, expanding—
a perpetual northern latitude dawn.
And even if we turn away or shut our eyes we see it:
an inverted afterimage of a flashbulb pinned east.
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