Chelys galactica

(based on suggestions from @dogpossum, @anti_kate, @facelikethunder, @TheEndeavour)

Universes are built to scale,

secret behind thin rubber walls.

Shells and ancient wings sprout in

foundations of foam and living glue.

Ping pong balls by the hundred

peel open on a cold night and a prayer.

No Melbourne taxi speeds them safe

to the sea. They are a lottery of lives.

Tiny beaks surprise the landscape,

erupt in a volcano of diamond grains.

Unlisted on the stock exchange,

amazement has no dollar value.

Flippering across infinite beach

towards the largest star ever found.

Sand tiled in tessellated domes.

Turtles all the way down.

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Today’s poem is based on suggestions from four peeps:

• @dogpossum: “eggs, please. but not eating eggs. bird eggs. or turtle eggs. or curate's egg.”
• @anti_kate: “on being "rich". Or not.”
• @facelikethunder: “Quantum foam and VY Canis Majoris.”
• @TheEndeavour: “praying for a taxi on a cold Melbourne night.”

You know that amazing footage we’ve all seen where the turtles lay a bazillion eggs in the sand, and then eventually all the babby turtles hatch and once and make a mad break for the ocean? Never ceases to astound me. I love how the beach looks like it’s come alive, with all those little flippers.

I can’t vouch for my understanding of quantum foam (knew I shouldn’t have majored in genetics), but I’ve done my best with what I could sort-of-kinda-like understand and morph into poetry.

VY Canis Majoris is the largest star discovered to date. And ‘turtle beak’ is actually a Chinese star constellation, I discovered afterwards, which matches up nicely. And there's the whole Terry Pratchett star turtle thing, of course. That's where 'Chelys galactica' comes in.

Five poems to go...