Orbit
I think about joining the Seven Sisters
when I make
peanut butter and jelly
again.
Tying shoes I wonder
how this
planet doesn't stop spinning.
Dust bunnies are molecular chambers and
laundry is a colorful list of historical moments.
Standing around with other Moms
At preschool
they seem content,
to stare at each other as they
discuss what was on television or
survival of children's phases
or avoiding cellulite and crow's feet.
I never saw any of them look up
so I hardly ever
spoke up.
The children rotate around these stars,
manicured and yoga calm.
I once said something about
having only one child, suddenly
this black hole developed
and the conversation formed
a vacuum.
As if I was to be avoided or
studied from afar.
Maybe that's all I can give—
one supernova explosion
noted and charted in a
hospital on the outer nexus,
giving birth to a son.
Soon after I was noted
to collapse in on myself,
and the study of me
stoped with a note
of “high risk.”
The question is, was I capable
all along to give new bodies
to the cosmos,
but I waited too long?
I will test my theories and
write grant letters until
I die.
by Jen D. Clark
from Astropoetica, 2010