I had said there is nothing so big
in the lake of stars. Its bedding,
a leap of logic weaved of dreadful-
hundred undiscoverable facts
passing itself off as that smaller thing:
our known universe,
Cvoa the Worm
each is one tooth to another
hanging form. Gone, adorn
skies that sit unsame is:
Cvoa the Worm
Bathysphere suns explode at the chance
that heat from the self will pass over
Its skin, bending forth, and setting.
I had said there is nothing so fathomably It