by Edward Michael Supranowicz
Kessler Syndrome
Middle orbit’s middle age. Chaos
when I was younger took the form of splintered spent
rocket boosters breaking up at random,
fireballing toward the Earth but mostly dust
upon hitting the ground. In middle age
things stick around. Things are a belt
you can’t shake off. Loosen a notch
at your own risk. Collisions kiss
the excess gear around my hips. I miss
thrusting pieces of myself at the abyss
in the name of science. You could count
the fragments, at the start. Will come
what may deny us any path
out of the atmosphere? Will come
what may propel and tear the fabric
I choose to wear this year apart?
Thomas Mixon has poems and stories in Apple Valley Review, Rattle, Metastellar, and elsewhere. He’s trying to write a few books.
Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Lithuanian/Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in Fish Food, Streetlight, Another Chicago Magazine, The Door Is A Jar, The Phoenix, and The Harvard Advocate. Edward is also a published poet who has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize multiple times.