Crossing

Disaster is here, of all places,
In my drinking water,
In the bubbles that swarm like
A colony of insects
Under the surface of the water
And vaporize
Not with a bang —
I see myself walking
There, in a starlit desert
A skin tapestry of all the whorls of time,
As soon as I reach
The next hill
I know what will happen
(A thin, bilious liquid, bubbling out of every pore)