The Alien

Greg Delanty

 
I'm back again scrutinizing the Milky Way
          of your ultrasound, scanning the dark                   
                    matter, the nothingness, that now the heads say
          is chockablock with quarks & squarks,
gravitons & gravitini, photons & photinos. Our sprout,
who art there inside the spacecraft
               of your Ma, the time capsule of this printout,
               hurling & whirling towards us, it's all daft
          on this earth. Our alien who art in the heavens,
our Martian, our little green man, we're anxious
to make contact, to ask divers questions
          about the heavendom you hail from, to discuss
                    the whole shebang of the beginning&end,
          the pre-big bang untime before you forget the why
and lie of thy first place. And, our friend,
to say Welcome, that we mean no harm, we'd die
          for you even, that we pray you're not here
                    to subdue us, that we'd put away
          our ray guns, missiles, attitude and share
our world with you, little big head, if only you stay.
 
Reprinted by permission of Louisiana State University Press from The Ship of Birth by Greg Delanty. Copyright © 2007 by Greg Delanty.

Poems by This Author

A New Law by Greg Delanty
Let there be a ban on every holiday


Further Reading

Poems About Aliens
Taken Up
by Charles Martin
The Abduction
by Stanley Kunitz
The White Fires of Venus
by Denis Johnson
[American Journal]
by Robert Hayden