Thursday, 8 September 2011

The Greatest Chandelier

Every morning I wake to the sound
of engineers clanging
and operators raising the crane.

People can’t see them,
for their orange safety vests
are invisible to the world.

Because the sun
is a giant, whirring machine.
It consists of billions of miniature bulbs,

flashing gold-white light
as the greatest chandelier imagined.
The workers, hired for this one purpose,

tirelessly lift the sphere,
the sphere essential to our existence;
its fragile sheen teetering

on the single point,
the black void,
the construction site.

Then when their work is done
they perch on the clouds
and pick at tuna sandwiches.

They watch the world rise,
and they watch the world wander
before they unhook the sun from its height,

and nobody knew they existed.

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