by Anna Maria Hong

Chase me into the abyss. I want to be
darker than a comet’s tail, black
ice, neutral mass, unblasted mystery.
Neutrinoesque and dense, heavy, slack,

slung low, a weighted lack, a nada force,
G-normous, gravitas en masse, the last
full frontier, hung, well-knackered, something fierce,
yes. Hum in the rip but big, mondo ballast

to freight this space ship. Measured balance,
an ought at nine, a zero plosive, fraught
science, grounded romance, too much, too dropped,

so far. Summed matter, tapped defense, a fence,
which is a lip, the cone’s rim, tip of that
proverbial, material gyre, the final trip

Published on February 1, 2015