Galaxy 27


There are still
voices there's
the quiet
whisper who
is like a distant
fever or even
the hot
blanket you
suffered under.

Then there is
the iron
hot from the fire
which does not know
us even though
we know of burns
and smoking woods.

Somewhere in between
these two galaxies
sound carries
on & there are
radio waves making
it across the dark
spectrum, which
sings in a hard
dry tenor deeper
than you or I
could ever muster.