GOT NOTHING ON THIS SCENE
strangelets
in my cornflakes
zombie Emily Dickinson
reciting her poem
about the snake
and her poem
about death
now you tell me
there is a black hole
at the centre
of Wonderland (all
that you deemed
absurd comedy in
fact
supreme gravity)
and Professor Cox
of my alma mater
there in Manchester
speculating on
the terror
of false vacuum
and the possibility of
absolute zero
on the surface of
licorice ice-cream
but
where are they now
who decades ago
tried
to save our everydays
dish out reassurance
that of classical and quantum
the twain should
never
meet
and other nonsense all
that stuff that is field, that
is pure
probability
simply laughing
tunneling through us
as if
we are the nothing
pure probability following
their lead
heading
in
and out of fashion
joke on us
imagining ourselves
solid as we seem
got
nothing on this scene
poems 2 die for 