Marathon Petroleum
“…one after another, and they produced their multitudinous offspring in this earth.”
There’s no metaphor for the sharp flatness
of the till plains of Findlay Ohio,
but imagine a vast carapace of ice,
some primordial, Pleistocene earth-god,
its being too large to know time,
slumbering like a mountain for eons,
suddenly—not our suddenly, but its—
struck dead by the sum of infinitely
smaller motions of light and gravity.
