Singularity
John C. Mannone
I approach the event
horizon of what looks like
a spinning black hole
just a little too close
whether by accident
or miscalculation, it doesn’t
really matter.
My sensors sample wind
from stars caught in its grip:
a fierce tsunami buffets
my vessel. Starlight pours
into its maw and a thousand
sparkles extinguish one-by-one.
Inside its lip, space & time
blend into amorphous
taffy that gravity pulls
deep into its throat. Gamma rays
try to slip into the safety of space
but are quickly subsumed; waves
purple on its temporal tongue—
soon too, the spaceship
of my body. I close my eyes,
chasing my own atoms stretching
into the curve that curls everything
together: matter, energy, space, time,
yet separating bone from marrow,
the intents of my heart, my will
to live, and my thoughts sifted free
of regret, remorse, the immeasurable
love I have for you—everything
curls into a singularity, even my soul
presses into the unknown: a gift,
or a hell, but that love, I leave with you.
