RIDDLE
drop me from
from nearly thirty thousand
feet
or maybe
more aptly
two thousand and one
plus which
in Arabic numerals
at least will
tally up
to two thousand
and three
the sneakiness of three
plunging us
headlong
via Oedipus, foot leg and
stick of the Sphinx
into the heart
of riddle
whose subject
framed by that odd
counterfactual
joke
of time
we now seen
born
held up to the Sun
but dreaming
of Moon
strangely named Moons
Phobos, Deimos (Oh, I
mean
Demos
Titan, Europa, Miranda,
plus others
as well
five listed here for
every toe on
your foot, finger
on your hand
held up to the Sun, ball
of such Uranian energy
watch him
long for that furnace
given
the slightest opportunity
doomed to there
walk, hobble,
crawl
poems 2 die for 