The Cosmos

With empty taunts, we tempt Poseidon’s hand
in ponds that seem the sea in reeds and weeds;
the gateway thunder crosses, reeling mad,
and we are ocean things, eternal beings.

Then pass through Hades’ breath upon our chests,
a humid heat that hides beneath your skin;
The pre-storm air that crackles from the stress
of hell on heel and fire upon the wind.

Become the mad-god Zeus at day’s retreat,
intemperate with mortal-meddling brand,
to pin Orion in his stellar seat
with bolts of fire – streaming from your hands.

At last I fall to Earth, with her entwined,
and lo: Uranus in his transit spy.