Son of the Sixth Star
Everything lies down. The road. The ash. The long light, leaving.
Nothing stands. One pole, snapped at the root, leaning.
The crossarm dipped to the height of a face. Charred. Holding.
The eye keeps no other faith. It climbs before the body can refuse.
A six branded in the wood, at the height of looking.
Under it, a hum. A source somewhere. Not here.
Struck metal in the air. Rain a second before lightning. The after of a spark.
The wire down, within reach, wet on the asphalt. Proof of nothing.
Closer. The hum thickens. A voice, garbled, pulsed, certain.
One white flash in the grey. Singular. Threading the wreck.
Home, it says. Home, Child. Through the wire. Distinct. Almost a hand.
To be sure, go in. Pass it. Listen from the far side.
the crossarm
the spark
a star that climbs as it falls
the same star
From the far side it is the same wire, the same mouth, and the word is fraying.
Home thins to hom thins to come.
The child falls out of it. come. come. come.
Beyond it a field with no up in it, the level running out past seeing,
and far on the level someone marbled and pallid, not coming, not going,
and behind him the undertow that takes whatever he lets fall.
Whoever is left to stand here. I am the one who. I am. The hand was mine.
Back on the asphalt, the same asphalt, the cigarette lifts to the wire,
for a light, only a light, the last fire set to the small one. It takes. Maybe it takes.
The cherry catches and the lung fills, full and black.
Then the breath leaves, and the ember with it, and the smoke is gone,
and under all of it the hum, and come, and come, and no better than before.
Echoes:
Revelation 6:1-8; 22:16
Isaiah 14:12
The Collar, George Herbert
Twin Peaks: The Return, David Lynch
The Satanic Epic, Neil Forsyth
“…a one-way trip to heaven,” David Lynch
“In heaven, everything is fine.” In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song), Peter Ivers and David Lynch, Eraserhead