Supernova Bossa Nova
Now I’m ninety solar masses and I grow as I accrete
all the inter-stellar gasses near my neighbors when we meet.
My doctor says I’ve grown too fat too fast, “… it’s unsustainable!”
But I’ve big plans for a big blast that I know is attainable:
I’ll do the Supernova Bossa Nova, watch me when I blow.
Let’s do the Supernova Bossa Nova and host a cosmic show
for galaxies both near and far, a dazzling dance display,
and I’ll blow a smoke ring where we are here in the Milky Way.
My hydrogen will all convert and soon I will implode
inward, I’m an introvert, but watch my shell explode.
My core will keep on shrinking ‘til a blackhole is created,
a wormhole linking to a world where dance is venerated.
We’ll do the Supernova Bossa Nova, watch me when I blow.
You can blame the Bossa Nova but let’s get on with the show!
July 4, 2020
For the “You are a star Poetry Contest” sponsored by Nina Parmenter (First Place)
Copyright © Eric Cohen | Year Posted 2020
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