A computer simulation a clock
Or maybe something with indistinct edges
Like a poem
Mariana trench and Everest
Of this exquisite miniature earth
Roses bloomed before Burns
Infants cried in fear before and after Blake
Patients in the recovery room struggled
To make sense of their surroundings
And sometimes surroundings made no sense
A city flattened a home destroyed
And resort to the comforting thought
That sense resides outside and over there
In the hands perhaps of the polymer god
Or on the wings of that transcendent being
Imageless but somehow like a dove
Or the sorrowful pierced heart of our dear goddess
Conceived without sin
Assumed bodily into heaven deathless
Delightful depictions graven on cardboard
But on the flip side the image
Of an eight-month-old’s corpse
It’s eyelids parted to view
Something the living will not see