Serrated slice of midnight,

blind eyes,
stegosaurus spine,
sailing secretly through the Winnebago fluid
glowing in a shanty,
where the drunk Homo sapiens
hides with crudely fashioned
hood ornament trident.

Grandfather naame.
They once murmured prayers for you.
And now, strung up,
a gaffe splays the complexity of your vessel,

aged stars and dark matter twisting itself into

radiation that will occupy eons.

Anomaly from this sea-sized ort cloud,
slowly flung from water gods’ atlatl.
Only to become mayonnaised fish paste
on Fritz’s Ritz.

Your frozen blood could be mine, so red, so real.
A guy puts a spent Miller bottle in your
manta craw still reaching for water.
The guy, laughing,
Says wit butter,
she tastes like lobster.

One guy wrestled one big as him out.
And, out of breath, his glove wiping away snot,
his brother called you monster.

Alex Hummel's career has spanned journalism, higher education leadership, and strategic communications. He held senior roles at UW-Oshkosh and the Universities of Wisconsin. He currently serves in nonprofit advancement, leading fundraising, PR, and community engagement initiatives at Boys & Girls Club of Oshkosh.