Crick in the Neck

All night long, the patient’s head
Lolled to the left in the hospital bed,

And all night long, the patient dreamed
Mysterious forces schemed

To keep him underneath the surface,
To drown any alertness

In some sideways gravity
That twisted every galaxy,

Until he dragged his aching neck
Off the pillow where he’d wrecked,

And woke up just enough to think,
While he’d been choking in night ink

He’d briefly solved the mystery,
Of dark matter and dark energy

As orthogonal gravities.
Fear and resolution, you see,

Are children of your most misleading sense
The worthlessness of confidence.