Tumble Dry on Low

Someone put a coin in my ear,Heard it clank on the graveyard piles of quartersIn the depths of my gut.Shut my jaw, pinched my nose,Selected Tumble Dry on Low.A mechanical whirl of hiccups and swirls,Ribbons of sloshes, and toe curls.A fleshy door with no hinge,Just a hatch at the bottom,Of folds and expanding holes.Break glass in case of emergency.

Tumbles of fingers, jabs of feet.Rotating heads, and rolling ribs.A flesh covered port, extending out and pulling back in.Spinning, spinning, spinningLosing control and regaining momentum.

Whirlpool galaxies of open portalsOf full moons and new life founded.Threatened to turn black hole,Obliterating everything that ever wasIn one existential shredder.

Somersaults of uncoordinated limbs,Alien skin.Exponential speeds of Big Bang proportionsAll until the stars explode intoThis reality, and this now.A slowing of movement,Till all that’s left,Is alien astronauts head first out the hatch

A buzz of finality, through the course of a body.Jaw thrown open, nose flared wide.Timer set back to zero,As universes grow,Galaxies quiet to nothing.My mechanical whirls quiet,Till someone else gives it another go.