Who really knows what’s going on behind the sun?

Each month it slyly palms itself before our eyes,

but we don’t see what lies behind that constant radiance.

   It could be Oz, inside a gondola of nic-titanium,

so busy yanking infrastellar levers, he has utterly lost track

of time, place, finitesmics and Calabi-Yau.

   Or is it Amun-Ra, twin-pillar-capped, in neo-Karnak

framed with spells, and fission-fueled by proto-sandstone

newly formed in flash-evaporated solar quartz?

   We’ve seen the outer planets lit in transiting

behind the sun, and so we know its nether face shines too.

But I’ll feel safer when I’ve eyeballed it myself.

Tom Riordan lives in New Jersey. He’s a retired restaurant worker and teacher, and dreams about becoming pope for his next career.

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