Poetry: Psycho | clivejames.com
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I heard at the heart of things
there’s a massive black hole.
Gigantically coy but given away
by x-rays and the teetering
of attendant stars.

The blades of the Milky Way
Moulinex through space
as I shudder in your arms
and wait to be accused
of hyperbole again

because I saw the universe
drain down the plughole,
swirl back through the disc of your eye
and all that was lost was reborn
in the still silent face by my side.