Helix NebulaTree Riesener
(First published in The Schuylkill Valley Journal)
Scattered paraphernalia left after creation,
as when a priest,
wandering off with friends
for a glass of beer and happy talk,
leaves behind abandoned on the altar
bell, book and candle,
crumpled purificator,
chalice and ciborium,
holy bread and wine.
A trillion miles deep into Aquarius,
tie-dyed orange, gold, rust, ghostly green
haloes the superhot white dwarf,
already stillborn,
flinging away sanctified fire from
Mary-blue at the quiet heart
of the wingy, spoked, glowing wheel,
the morning-glory flower of thy open womb,
where more than bloodheated stellar wind
incarnated the doomed star's cosmic dust,
the last bell not even cast and hung,
the altar light guttering.
as when a priest,
wandering off with friends
for a glass of beer and happy talk,
leaves behind abandoned on the altar
bell, book and candle,
crumpled purificator,
chalice and ciborium,
holy bread and wine.
A trillion miles deep into Aquarius,
tie-dyed orange, gold, rust, ghostly green
haloes the superhot white dwarf,
already stillborn,
flinging away sanctified fire from
Mary-blue at the quiet heart
of the wingy, spoked, glowing wheel,
the morning-glory flower of thy open womb,
where more than bloodheated stellar wind
incarnated the doomed star's cosmic dust,
the last bell not even cast and hung,
the altar light guttering.