Pregnant nebula, embryo stars,
ragged incandescences torn apart
as plasma bursts from stellar birth.
Deep within amid writhing gas
a glint, metallic gleam,
foreign shapes moving to gravity’s dance,
hulls laced in ancient disaster.
Who, what and why
lost to space-time.
Those who died here
infinitesimally disassociating
stripping to molecular debris
amino acids seeding new planetary nebulae.
Rebirthed on a moon near you.
Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond
‘Glint’ was first published in Trouble Among the Stars Issue 3
The Cheesesellers Wife 