The Universe in a Jar

an old man in Sunderland who owns the universe and keeps it in a jam-jar in the dusty cupboard under the stairs

Here I sit watching dust fall on my jar
falling in endless curtains between the cradles
of new stars burning the universe to ash
here at the mouth of the river Wear
in the land of Sunder.

Here I sit with the universe in a jar—
actually, just the center. The rest unfolds
away from the rim like an umbrella
from its handle. In my hand.
The edges flap in the breeze.

Now and then an extra-strong gust
of unreality will turn the whole thing
inside out and leave me
squirming inside the jar—but then
I can usually pop it back right way round.
You people never notice.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside