A near infinity away a rock
Lies on the surface of a blasted moon.
No one will ever see it, but it’s there.
An asteroid will slam nearby — the shock
Will leave only a crater or a dune,
Slowly cooling in its star’s blinded glare.
In every sky scraper a fire escape
Stacks thousands of risers and treads of taupe
Or sage, sometimes both, lined with painters tape,
And handrails of pipe never gripped with hope.
Millions of miles of stairs on our planet
Made just in case, which men will never see.
Four dimensions count the hidden quiet,
Fill the near infinite with the empty.
