black hole

poetry will not fix that hole
it will only make it bigger
big enough you can squeeze yourself inside
and teleport you into another world
once you are there
feeling weird already
—after all you are in some other world—
that same hole will suck you
like a heavy duty vacuum cleaner
it is the end of the poem
the last verse
and you are deployed
in this world again
end of the ride


max hammond (Pittsburgh, PA, 1977)