Heliotropic Crab Canon
Blooming from dark matter,
I burst.
Then like a nova
cleaving eternity
I vault
through the tropopause
demanding an answer
from immortals.
Gallant taunts,
love notes
advance like
The planets
of the hungry.
They lack the will
to catch me.
Clouds refuse
the impossible,
prodding me toward
a stilted desire.
This ghostly ceiling
rupturing
my will
becomes the meridian,
beliefs
as fragile as
breath.
Conceit incites angst
with a lone touch,
this sky
electrifying
a winged eel
that spirals like
a soft comet
in a space suit.
I am an arrow tail
piercing the epidermis
like a syringe,
like ozone.
Emptied. Punctured.
My belly
becomes
ground
dripping
like an egg shell
from Earth,
splintered.
Splintered
from Earth
like an egg shell
dripping,
ground
becomes
my belly
emptied, punctured
like ozone,
like a syringe
piercing the epidermis.
I am an arrow tail
in a space suit,
a soft comet
that spirals like
a winged eel
electrifying
this sky
with a lone touch.
Conceit incites angst.
Breath
as fragile as
beliefs
becomes the meridian,
my will
rupturing
this ghostly ceiling,
a stilted desire
prodding me toward
the impossible.
Clouds refuse
to catch me.
They lack the will
of the hungry.
The planets
advance like
love notes,
gallant taunts
from immortals
demanding an answer.
Through the tropopause
I vault,
cleaving eternity.
Then like a nova
I burst,
blooming dark matter.
Vincent Toro has an MFA in poetry from Rutgers University. In 2014, Vincent was recipient of a Poet’s House Emerging Poets Fellowship and a New York Foundation for the Arts Fellowship in Poetry. His poems have been published in Kweli, The Buenos Aires Review, The Acentos Review, Five Quarterly, Codex, The Journal, and in the anthologies CHORUS: A Literary Mixtape, and The Waiting Room Reader 2. His debut collection, “Stereo.Island.Mosaic.” won the 2015 Sawtooth Poetry Prize and is being published by Ahsahta Press this month (Feb. 2016). He lives and teaches in The Bronx with his wife, writer and scholar Dr. Grisel Acosta.