In the nebula
There is starry matter,
And in that matter
There are phosphorescent eyes —
And within the penetrating smoky-eyed visage There is an omnipresence
That pokes you in bed,
To see if you’re still awake.
In the case that you’re not awake They take pictures,
And send said photos
To their inner circle —
Comrades spanning numerous galaxies.
If these mirthful beings are sleeping, Then the omnipresence snaps
More compromising photos of you
Before posting them
On your bedroom window, answering all Of those questions that are never asked.
How deep does the nose canal go?
You’ll have your answer by morning.
Samuel Strathman
Samuel Strathman is a poet, author, educator, and editor of Cypress: A Poetry Journal. Some of his work has appeared or is forthcoming in Train, NoD Literary Magazine, White Wall Review, Ice Floe Press, and others. His first chapbook, “In Flocks of Three to Five” will be released later this year by Anstruther Press. He lives in Toronto, Ontario with his partner and two cats, Archie and China.
