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"What's That?".

 Not a wad or pearly spurt, not a sprinkling of milky seed or a
filmy glaze,
 but something like a shard of astral matter suspended in outer space, a
speck dividing
emptiness from emptiness, wedge-headed, streaking through the sky, its
tail shedding
chunks of icy gas too small to see--, and if I hadn't asked how
would I have known
that framed above her desk was a photo, of her former boyfriend's
magnified by an electron microscope, a single furious specimen escaped
from its ejaculate. 
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Author:Collier, Michael
Publication:Northwest Review
Article Type:Poem
Date:Nov 1, 2009
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