Somewhere above a terrible crane
lifts north pole to south.

Vibration accelerates, fluorescence
sharpens, into
tracings of magnetic fields.
The room fills:
pulses of an oscilloscope chaotic,
distant infinity of siren sounds.

He reaches but does not
touch me,
sparks gap outstretched fingers.

Then —
galaxies eating galaxies,
time a rubber glove snapped inside out so hard it
tears,
somewhere solid neutrons collapse with
resounding whisper,
somewhere a hole in space, a
permanent shudder, re-echoing
thud, the
heaviest footsteps.

My stomach enters my intestines.

I look up to horror in eyebrows,
through open mouth his heart
oozing up between tonsils, eyes
standing on end,
something beyond his pupils.

He buries that face,
screaming sorrow, stumbling on chairs
through the door, he rips
a shin, cries
into the street, and
runs, looking back only once:

A foreigner in my land.