Anatomy of a Comet

Like this, like bullets through
a fetus. The remodeling
that would then take place.
A little to the left of center

and down like fear, and then sleep.
Water and blood bend through veins and settle
like a seed without a fruit, a clot
without an artery. This is not breathing.

Eyes see but darkness, lips taste
but iron. She hears a faint cymbal
recede like white noise, like
copper, like nickel, a crease of light

bloodshot and bound for her lungs—
the implosion of cells rocketing through
the ruin and roar and into her heave,
seeding and cueing the whirl of her body.