It's educational. Uniformly blue
oceans are named
in currents of type, and part
with the orange and red
edges of continents.
These teem with glistening
creatures: the anaconda guards
the Brazilian rain forest,
and a zebra's outstretched hooves reach
from the coast to the heart of Africa.

I found it tonight on my son's
bedroom floor, unrotatable,
the northern end of its metal axis yanked
deep beneath the Arctic.
At bedtime, I questioned
him the way that makes his face
go slack, and his lively arms
limp.

I worked on the globe, peering
down the black
hole in the polar ice cap, manipulating
from the antipodes.
Now the toy moves
freely on its axis.
I want to show him, but he's
asleep on the planet's flank,
galloping through space
toward the fixed
and irreparable morning.