Pisces
A poem by Dash MacIntyre
Published in
Jan 8, 2022
A sun too big for its own good
the fusion engines drain and dry greasy
in between flash flooding fission bursts
from visions of women I’d love to love
over-irrigating ventricles flaring out plasma rings
everyone put on your sunglasses
I get no rest it never ends
when one glows dim at the edge of the event horizon
another dusty cloud plunges in and I’m burning up again.
