Why We Have Serial Killers

When asked why it shines
burnishing
the back of the
night sky in various shades
amber glaze     bedazzling white
you’ll hear some whisper
Newton
Einstein
centripetal     centrifugal forces
you’ll hear them speak
of rigid laws that govern
tides
intensity of reflections
of an infinitely large
gas ball     ricocheting
darting millions of miles
in the void     bouncing
yes      bouncing
off a piece of lifeless rock
raining down
fine pixie dust
photons smacking
backs of the retina
bounding back out
settling on the page
as hardback diagrams
two triangles     tip to tip
there it is
It’s in the book
It’s all in the book     they say
others are concerned
that it’s personal
there’s proof      they say
that after millennia
of being forced to watch
when the moon is glowing
ashen pain
overflows
deviously concealing sound
in the dripping light
burning wagging tongues
and celestial voices
into the heads of the
pummeled hearts at
our feet     reminding
us that we are not
safe from ourselves.
Otherwise     they say
why would our
children
eat themselves
and others, make bowls
out of skulls
fry hearts in a pan
on the kitchen stove and smile joyful
on the way to the chair