At the beginning of the month, Terry gave Mike Sonksen four prompts. He engaged in fevered writing with each of them and gave the results to Terry. She used the words from that fevered writing to create this dis•articulations poem.
PYRAMID OF THE MOON
She watched balloonists in the sky
and named them angels, clear warning
God would come to earth today.
“Our destiny will be eclipsed,”
she shouted. We doubted it. We
stayed loyal to our ambitions,
those ancient knots and boxes.
We wanted power. And cookies.
We didn’t deserve judgment day.
Besides, no place to evacuate —
the old missions blasted, hot high
clouds overtaken by cold ash.
We steered away from the girl that
dreamed our fate. No shortage of hate
for her cracked and ugly stories.
Her trajectory will move her
to the Pyramid of the Moon.
Tectonic plates will start to shake.
When she takes flight she’ll rise in
air, reconsidering this earth,
eclipsing the laws of matter.
She’s only a girl, a baby
balloon; already she touches
horizon, almost longs for home.