The Earth is hot and full of air
my hair is wrapped around my stem
my flowers find the sky in desperate time
the clouds are not the painter's touch
but the blast of the furnace of the universe
where the plastic cups and roughed up packages
find their way into landfills
and somewhere deep in our chests
is the black hole it all gets sucked into
What is this electricity
this tiny heat
inside of us
the furnace of the Universe burns in us
In three million years
when Elon Musk is on a spaceship tweeting to the Gods
and the no one in particular cares
my star dust will be wrapped up in yours
for eternity.