A wandering debris With reconnaissance for brakes Seeks the decanidecahel In the aftermath of a supernova— Written a time before It knew its fellow cohorts It supersaults in permutations, A zeppelin pilot grazing Van Allen’s taut belt. A centimetre per second Apart from the rest— Once brothers, blood-forged On the anvil of shared space Now memories fed to a bonfire Each direction it leans, Some invisible ridge Snaps it to the other polarity. It rides a vortex of cardinality, Hoping the next stop will be it Because it does not belong To what it came from.