Alternate Universe
I see the spindle spinning
in the corner of your eye, the city
where Samson is holding his hair
and Delilah is singing. The way
the plates of the earth move, so
do all of us shift and take our turn;
somewhere I am lifting my shirt;
somewhere I am touching the tendons
of a horse’s legs; somewhere
you are in a supermarket holding
a cantaloupe. If so, there is a place
where Samson sings too, a place
where you and I are waiting
to be born, even waiting for our planet
to collect itself from dusty fumes,
begin to turn, begin
to burn inside.
