You had two heads, and now you’ve
lost one. Big bang sky with a spread
of stars where your brains should
be. Nothing exceeds like necessity.

Every inch takes a mile. Every mile
a destiny. Way, way down inside,
where the mass is always meaner.
Always the flat-top monster, never

the fright-wig bride. Last night,
you wandered lonely as a Rover
vaporizing rocks on Mars. And what
were you thinking with all that red light

cradled so recklessly in your arms?
Indigenous minds want to know.
The torch mob’s in the village, yo!
Can’t you hear that missile blow?

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John Martino is an educator and writer currently residing in Hong Kong. His poems have appeared in Another Chicago Magazine, Connotation Press, The Bitchin’ Kitsch, and frak\ture, among others.