Of course you are wearing a red dress—
Spanish dancer
fanning your burning skirts
aging lady
bright as 1,000 suns.
When I peer through the telescope’s long black eye
your ruby shards
spike the cold dark
pulsing and whirling
exultant with strong
stamping feet.
They say you will rage
until the colossus of your blazing core
collapses
into itself
consumed by supergiant desire
for light and heat.
How eager some are
among the earthbound
to see you flame out
to be left breathless
by the blood-red curtain call.
Your gleaming will rival the moon’s
one season only and
then: nothing.
I say dance
your haughty dance
defiant and alive
refusing to be
invisible
your fireball apocalypse streaking through fathomless sky.
