“Cosmology” by Mark Thomas

Image by Cole Rise, used with permission.
 When I used to drink
my portion of the universe
made sense.
 
Hand heavy on the glass,
glass heavy on the table;
table legs splitting the lithosphere
probing the core of creation.
 
Formidable and dark,
worshipped by belts and moons,
I firmly anchored
the eccentric orbits of waitresses
and lesser drunks.
 
I filled up the bar
like a smiling planet,
pushing up mountains and draining seas,
bending the sky on my back
and sweating asteroids.
 
When I used to drink,
I exalted within my surface storms,
watched continents swirl
on discs of liquid rock
and settle where I willed.
 
Warping matter and twisting time,
I rolled through the emptiness,
ponderous and cold,
unaware of the sun.
   

Mark Thomas is a retired English and Philosophy teacher and ex-member of Canada’s national rowing team. He has previously published work in Electric Literature, Daily Science Fiction and The Globe and Mail.

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  1. Pingback: Contributors Fall 2019 | Rkvry Quarterly Literary Journal

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