(Hubby outside dices logs
she dusts, washes and irons

in a metallurgists scorched
earth leather apron

beneath ship’s oak trusses
a hazy orbit of stars and debris

dances round her busyness.
Above, nebulonic britches flap

pegged to golden string with split ends
between shiphull rib rafters

as she irons with dark energy
dimensional creases,

flattens 4d to 3,
2d to 1, grumbles

as what dimwit folded
the material, or thought

taffetta a sensible choice.
curses as a black hole appears,

bawls out sunblinded window “Oi!
Time you did the ironing again!”

as his adze end shatters the window
with a big bang that lasts millennia.