Industrial mushroom
highway moon
pearl rimmed indigo
in sunset’s glut
of orange
dwarfing the yard
of auto parts
and plastic bags
and bulldozers
howling to raze the town,
and windows prickled
with interstate light
and couples who fight
in the basement
so noise does not carry.
Faraway martyr,
you hold the water,
you cast the pull
that fathoms us to sleep.
No planet
but your chamber—
locked away
until we need you
when the fires arrive
your violet eye will open
oh I know it
we’ll be saved.