Black ball, like a bomb dropped
On my tank-top cloaked back–
drop down to the ground. Up
through my firm-planted legs.
Breath caught, but I can’t stop.
Two and one more, and the black ball
hits the cold floor, like a bomb dropped.
Clear and cool drink, though my sweat stinks,
and my word’s worlds sink in thought mire–
all my black thoughts burn like bombs dropped.