Black Hole Mimicry

On the sand’s wide sky
of loose-floating grains,
the ant lion digs his pit,
buries himself at the bottom,
stills into galactic silence
and waits.

The wandering ant comes, tentative,
to the rim, teeters, falls over
the outer event horizon,
in and down—cannot escape
the shifting particles beneath his feet.
The predator leaps out
with a silent roar,
and with powerful jaws
grips and devours the ant.

We Gullivers stand by,
huge, bemused at the Lilliputian
cosmic drama, then,
heads thrown back, look up
at the emerging evening stars,
at our own milky swirl slowly turning,
tightening toward the final vortex
vacuuming us down together
into God’s devouring jaws
with a silent roar.

 
Mary Lux.JPG

Mary Lux in Milwaukee has poems in four anthologies, in the Wisconsin Fellowship of Poets Calendars, and online.  She tracks the news in The Times, the local papers, investigative reports in The New Yorker and on PBS; is impacted by nature, conflicts around the world and beauty wherever it is found.