Wednesday, April 24, 2013

2013 Poem 24: One, Six, Seven, Eight

There is more of one,
much more of one
than all others combined.
You might almost say
there is nothing else
(except for most of what surrounds us
in our lives).

Six is black or brilliant cut,
Methyl or ethyl or bucky.
The stuff of life,
save for all the poisons
it's also in.

Is God seven?
It dominates our atmosphere
and also Titan's,
and coats Pluto

Eight is sweetly like love
A fingerprint of origins,
a never-sleeping
maker of rust.
Its buildup was a catastrophe
but not for us.

One, six, seven, eight.
Subtract any of them
and subtract us all.

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