Light illuminates my head,
after the pounding pains of my heart begin to slow.
The thick concrete under me has become soft to the touch,
and the echoing sounds of sirens and voices muffle.
“Call 911”

What once was
and what is yet to be.
Spinning through the planetary sky,
the opal spheres of our moons
and implosions of stars.

“Get her on the gurney”
How young is too young?
When is the ripest age to die?
Three, twenty, eighty-two.
If not now, when?

Light fills the corners of my mind
like a charged neuron, blinking,
electric shock pulses,
a steady aching throb.
Into the void of space,
as the gravitational pull
whirls me into oblivion.