Queen of Worlds
A black hole ruling her area of the universe
The worn moon cries
from a thousand hollows
of unbearable whiteness,
squashed against her event horizon -
inside, shards scattered
in the light of eaten suns,
bleak coronas
revolving slowly
around her core,
are fed by rays of
reflecting sunwinds,
glittering.
And somewhere she senses
inhabitants of once rich planets, gnawing,
their intelligence unraveling
her very essence.
Someday they'll go beyond -
to become knowledge, or sages
and they'll make her bleed
into faint nebulas of dreams,
or souls.
Queen of dust,
fatal to those who linger
at the honey around her vortex.
As the exhausted moon surrenders
she grows into another age.
Dorine Ratulangie, 2005-2006
Published in Illumen (magazine of speculative poetry), Autumn 2006
