Love sets off a Super Nova, particles hurtling beyond the galaxy, straight into

enveloping space, black as the ink of my pen. How luminous it is, as my regret

loses its gravity and my doubt ceases to exist. How brilliant in its death throes.

How closely it resembles the whites of the eyes of God. And then, just like that

my Universe is a speck on a map drawn by chubby cheeked angels

and fountain pen makers. Clowns and naked tailed devils, prophets in corners

with their dunce caps pointed at the horizon, all of them

have seen Love blow it all to Hell before.

© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019