Black Hole

She slips into and disappears behind
flesh, cloth, and metal,
rushing forever into the past.
The rats licking the tracks clean
while visions of the future rise,
desolate, eschatological,
infinitely bifurcating in space and time,
resonating cold up the spine, and
coalescing in premonitions of tears.
Your tired heart holds desperately on and
up by the collar, limbs flailing in the skyline,
for even amidst this gravity
there are weightless observers,
there are trains and friends to miss and catch,
there are stairs to climb, seas to sail,
the north star extinguished.