The wedding band on your finger or the gold
watch you’re wearing was most likely produced
a billion years ago by two neutron stars
colliding. That’s pretty cool.
The pretty new band produced by bilious fingers
was wearing gold stars. For what seemed like
most years you watched them colliding at too-
Stars like years. Producers make a pithy billion
as they watch your neurons go bandy from a
collision with the wearable cold. You get
The production of golden years bond together in
college. Perky, you wore a swatch and Bill’s ions
glid toward you like moist sago. You steered
wide of his newty fingers.
Ghouls burst from a Nerf gun. Stars bend. Prod a
duck and it’ll cool down. Yours’ll wade out too,
or, like, wear you out late. It’s a collage and a pity
you haven’t been watching fings err.
Toby Fitch is poetry editor of Overland. His books include Rawshock, which won the Grace Leven Prize for Poetry 2012, Jerilderies and, most recently, The Bloomin’ Notions of Other & Beau (Vagabond 2016). He lives in Sydney.