She was the universe.
She walked, her shirt woven with stars, her skirt sprinkled with gases, across the skies, sliding between atoms and molecules and things smaller than both, no disturbance to anything, to anyone.
Her left eye held the moons, her right eye held the suns, her teeth(more) gleamed with the asteroids. Her tongue rolled with light, her throat vibrated with dark. She carried galaxies in her hands, stars drifting down from her fingertips, winking and twinklings as they drifted through the space around them. Her fingernails were made of planets' rings, her lips coated with the cores of meteors. Her hair twisted and burned with the fires from the star clusters, sparking and sizzling and burning until only the few strongest inches of the feathery tufts remained. She held trillions of organisms within her veins, living creatures crawling around the insides of her blood cells, shooting through her heart, around her lungs, inside her brain, ignorant to their location, ignorant to her. They laughed and played and warred and cried within her, they ate and raised and hunted and thought and believed within her, and she heard them all, listened to them all, smiled at and cried with and learned about them all. She loved them all, even though not a single one of them knew of her.
She was the universe.
But, oh, how lonely she was.(less)
it starts small, at the corners of the eyes, how they lift and crinkle when i say her name. i don't mean it. i mean to say i have a friend, a friend who is special. we've been friends for a long time.
when i speak of her(more) and all that she means, i feel my voice raise a lilt, the sentence ending on a high note as if pushed through the banal roof of the story about my day, about what is new in life and how far this place is from home, and how hard it is to separate a person from a place. this story is becoming the story i insert when i want to draw people in, workshop i life. what should I do? implore again and again. what does it all mean?
the guests entertained various possibilities. its all in your head. its not all in your head. clearly ive matured since not dating at a women's college days. and then they see it, the sparkle and when they believe it, they sparkle too. all of our voices raise into jumpy lilts, cooing and giggling as if easing a smile out of a baby, or as if we have all become babies, cooing and giggling and sighing playfully and the silliness of this moment, this situation, this potential.
is it there? i write the story whenever we talk, collect data on what is, so clearly right there, so that others can know that evidence is mounting, so that they have more data to workshop with when we sit down together to workshop this moment. what was/what wasn't/how distance skews the smallest things.
maybe you're desperate, the israeli offers. stranger things have happened. i nod, accept that this could be, then offer up my evidence.
a flutter in the stomach
travels to the heart
to land in the eyes-
that shining glow
(more) I feel it blinding my smile
when I am near you-
my face reflecting
a moon throwing back
the light of the sun
but when you go
it all grows dim
and my eyes turn black,
phased out and waiting
for your return(less)