Palindrome - Gamma Ray Burn Poem by Patti Masterman

there are holes
near my soul;
you put your laser on beam,
straight through my seams;
ripping my pain, you extol,
though you're earth, moribund
your sights are on sky,
you wanted to fly
too close to sun:
your eyes I discern,
don't turn aside,
from hole gaping wide
your gamma ray-
burn, ray
gamma your wide
gaping hole from aside
turn; don't discern I
eyes your sun
to close too fly to
wanted you sky on
are sights
your moribund earth
you're, though
extol you pain; my ripping seams
my through, straight beam
on laser
your put you soul
my near
holes are there