Force Fields IV
by F.J. Bergman
And why should I believe in an inexorable
sag toward dense, entropy of mass,
dispersion's antithesis, ague of descending;
melodic spiral or straight easy slide?
Convergence of matter, what waits in the cavities
of a trillion tiny hearts. Those wounds
will be filled. That compact, tidy force,
grandmother obsessively neutering
the nacreous accretions in her neat nest
of nettles, ocean shelving its slake
of sediment, wants to file away a recursion
of boxes inside boxes, dwindling
to a singular entity that inhabits
an inverted castle on the underside of time
where it has withdrawn to a frozen cupola
overlooking a void with a fabulous view
of a collapsing star.
Copyright © 2009, F.J. Bergman
Image Credit: Aurore Simonnet/Sonoma State University/NASA
F.J. Bergmann frequents Wisconsin and fibitz.com. She writes poetry and science fiction, often simultaneously. Her poetry has recently appeared in Aberrant Dreams, Doorways, Paradox, Strange Horizons, Weird Tales, Asimov's Science Fiction, in a bunch of regular literary journals that should have known better, and in her third chapbook Constellation of the Dragonfly (Plan B Press, 2008). One of her pseudopodia can reach all the way from the bed to the refrigerator.