bang!
(fiat lux)
a cosmos
with Earth at the crux.
room enough for a moon, too,
inside this cavernous womb.
sudden trouble, seeing double;
night's cocoon-shaped boon
meets the gleaming crescent
of impending doom–
a lunar homicide which leaves
the terrestrial sphere bereaved.
Earth launches an attack
kicking, kicking, kicking out death
ramming heels against 
the Reaper's head.
soles painted red with brethren blood
create markings on concave walls:
rows of toes resembling the scythe,
footprints simulating arrowheads
or the diamond stitching on coffin liners.
the thrashing slows,
Earth's willpower waning
along with the moon–
a light extinguished too soon.
Earth plunges into darkness–
a sensory deprivation tank
known as the Void;
oceans forget their identity
and confuse themselves
with continents.
Earth rages
against such oblivion
pounding, pounding
on the galaxy's edge
clamoring for recognition–
for confirmation
of favorable fate.
Mother Nature,
mourning the moon,
mistakes muffled tapping
for the pulsing of veins.
Earth may or may not exist.