THE INFINITIES I WOULD CREATE WITH A BIT OF EARTH/SPACE/TIME

a poem

Photo by NASA on Unsplash

/

you have never met 
a mortal woman. 
all of us are sparkling
nebulae, the birth places of stars. 

our bones hold building blocks & 
our hips cradle worlds &
our lips speak light 
into the darkest parts of space. 

it’s 2024  and they cannot identify the purpose
of every atom of our milk—but they know now 
there probably is one. 
(they’ve learned to trust that much.)

& never forget the magic of baby backwash 
how our breasts take in infant saliva
detecting illness, adding antibodies 
to make the child well.  

my body parts—
I once thought of as mere vacancy
	emptiness
	lack. 
I’d look to the boys and hear 
	“now this child has something
	you do not” 

(and wouldn’t Freud have been tickled pink—)

but this is not what I am—
nor am I limited to the miracles my body can create
(I have made five of these, and I love them feverishly,
but this too is not all of me) 

for I am in everything 
	Imago dei
conduit & conductor
created & creative 


& what you need to know about nebulae is
that the gas between the galaxies is not empty air 
	but space.


—the infinities I would create with a bit of earth/space/time 

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