Like the first men, fear plunges its axis through.
Our scientists made a mistake. Someone is hurt.
His artery hatch, open, spews out darts in the snow,
fruit lodged in clouds. Every fact turns its face towards
the earth. We push altars of cold over carrying him
behind us. Not even computers can help. Radios, haywire.
His reflection waits in a room of water. Its hand
caressing his hand. A mouth pressed against what
used to be a mouth. No words between them,
but kisses. Kisses.