Craters

Splat
By Big Frank Dickinson

It’s in the margins meaning lies
Not in the local text .
Familiar landscape sets the tone,
But look at what comes next.

The sheets that once were creased and flat
Now rise in life anew.
That flat horizon stamped with life;
This long long overdue.

Let the clock tock-tock, tock-tock,
And say good bye to tick.
The moon now sits inside your head
Compete with crater shtick.