You travelled in a bullet until the heat

spiked your blood and panic curdled lungs.

Solid ground slipped into ocean, no waves

only millions of pins and a small rubber ball

suspended in the distance. You hurled

yourself toward the familiar shape, veins boiling.
Six hours of rattling teeth on metal, a great bear

roaring through the dimness.

It was in this new darkness that you collapsed,

a miniature sun: no longer dog but red giant.

Contrite, they printed your face on postage stamps

to orbit the world once more, forgetting

it was the earth you loved.