I am Scud, I am squid, the asteroid so large
that someplace big as Texas needed a name.
Divinely commissioned for a reprising purpose;
the Greeks are the ones
who best knew my acts.
If there’s luck anymore I’ll crash slack in the sea,
fall drunkenly like a kite without string,
where I’ll settle with other wet angry things
to be loved by the ologist
through glass inches, at last.