Unlike the azure that protects the world,
the sky-dome’s plexiglass reflects the world.
A spherical lab experiments for eons.
Slowly, the life it bears perfects the world.
Billions of bits of sparkle whirling, whirling.
Something’s alive among these specks: the world.
A robed astronomer sees a curious glow
light up his globe as he dissects the world.
You shut the greenhouse windows one by one,
then wonder who it is that wrecks the world.
With a writ of attachment in its curved appendage,
the alien says it must annex the world.
Amphibians, mammals, reptiles, birds, fish, insects—
two by two a ship collects the world.
“Farewell,” she said, and fled to a new planet.
He shrugs when queried, “Was your ex the world?”
Tumefied into a scarlet monster:
the sun. Nobody resurrects the world.
The astronaut, though warned she’ll turn to salt,
glances back and recollects the world.
A cosmic magpie spies a blue-white marble,
then, comet-like, swoops down and pecks the world.
by Martin J. Elster, first published in The Chimaera.
Author’s Note: About the makta (poet’s name) in the final sher: “magpie” is “elster” in German.
Editor’s Note: The interweaving of biblical and mythological references within the context of science and science fiction is impressive in this ghazal. Hopefully the author will forgive my video link; it seemed appropriate.