Saturday, January 10, 2015

Universal surnames

Today I am a faded ember. 
Or perhaps there is not enough oxygen in the room.
Stars are an assumption waiting on time we don't have 
to spend waiting around for outcomes.
Maybe the edge of the universe is rushing 
toward us. Maybe that is speculation.
Like the great-great-grandfather
no one is certain disappeared into the Yukon. 
Like the six children he left somewhere 
in the middle of Arkansas and Idaho.
Like an orphanage 
and the sixth time you practice identifying yourself 
with the dizzy line of a fly trying to escape 
into the flecked night sky
through the windowpane.
The map is a renaming too.
Like star charts.
Like an eraser chasing you through a dot-to-dot landscape.
Like the pictures our children give to us to wallpaper
the refrigerator, then reupholster the landfill, then
mulch the ground where you will lie and they will lie
until the story of connection 
is a picture of bonemeal and ash and dust 
and improbable starlight.

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