Upon this meteor, a face
A poem
1 min readOct 15, 2020
It barrels. Terminal velocity. As
clumsy and ruinous as a cancer cell.
Early, yet too late. Because
all that it would destroy has already
eaten itself. And upon
this meteor, a face.
Eyes clear and open. Hair
growing from the brows and chin
like moss over a desert floor.
Even here, hope.