The Big Bang happens inside you

Wind skeins around the house. What
is wrapped is wrapped for good
they say, but I’m never sure if I can

believe them. At midnight, I hit the grass
face first. I glimpse the creation
of galaxies in dew. Though I was only

a girl, once, I already knew
what a man could do. The stars - though bright
cannot be seen through faults

in bone. Growing wider
with every ripple-man
to woe-you can never

return to home / in heart.
You left knowing something
will always be breathing.

That something will always be
seeking the pathways toward breaking
you like a careless archaeologist

who returns to chip loose
the past alone

Author's Note

2021