Dark of the Sun
Dark of the sun
shine your black light down on me,
from the pinhole spot of anti-matter
centred at your core.
That little speck of dirt,
a cosmic shrine of heresy,
absorbs the way the world seems flatter,
in any time of war.
Dark of the sun,
cast your ice-cream cone of night
like a spear from the heart of chaos
lancing to the ground.
How the microbes hone
ultra-violet rays of guided flight
to stake the flesh and bone of Eros
and any lover found.
Dark of the sun,
fire your flip-side heart of plague,
bounce radium from the ocean glass,
the blue galactic eye.
And would the rage subside,
if love and life were less than vague
and crept from out the deep crevasse
to shine before they die?
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