Coughing Up the Universe

I coughed up the universe last night.
It tumbled from my lips
In a violent spasm
Bouncing from the walls of my room
Alarming my dog
With its sheer size
Annoying star clusters
And pesky black holes.

It left me tired
Sore and perplexed.
Coughing up the universe
Is hard work.
I feel guilty for the interruption
Of all those disturbed lives.

What would my old physics professor say?
The one that insisted on verifiable data.
My philosophy prof?
So much for existentialism.

I dusted the universe off
Carefully placing it in a mayo jar
With holes punched in the lid
(Lessons learned from dead fireflies
In the summer of my tenth year.)

I shook it up a bit
Checking for life.
But it wasn’t in good condition when I got it.

Einstein and the Pope agree:
It’s all about mass.