Some rusty pipe inside
bursts, spilling spent blood
upon the macula,
blots out the light.
Neither time, nor space,
nor mass, said Einstein,
are true constants;
only light.
Why then this black
hole? Sure,
God, like yeast,
transforms by corruption.
Yesterday I was indestructible
eighteen, the sea
was deep; today
decaying in the shallows.
– Kilian McDonnell
