NEAR EARTH OBJECTS
Someone told me how Earth has a heartbeat. How wind talks vaguely human.
How my grandfather got up to take a piss when he first saw the aurora,
one hand on the bathroom sink. Someone told me how there’s an asteroid
headed for Earth & we’re all gonna die, how there’s dark matter in corners
of kitchen cabinets. How each nebula’s a cloud of dusty particles or cobwebs
strung up in a mirrortoothed morning. Earth is shifting in her sleep. Someone said
it was on his honeymoon, the skylight dancing like an ocean. They made love in
so many colors. They told me the sky will open and I held up my palms
not knowing to expect sheets of gold and iridescent green or shards of broken planets.
Maybe it ends with a black hole sucking in regenerating matter. Maybe it ends
with my palm on your cheek and maybe it’s not the end at all but we’re moving.
Earth is shifting in her sleep and in 2029 they told me something’s headed
straight towards us through a hole through the celestial black through the gravitational keyhole
opened up in some secret starry garden. A door like this will open. Like an intimate act,
how we slip into each other. How during sex we try our hardest to get closer
to the ground, no one gets any closer to god no one reaches to the heavens
in a shout more like a whisper please don’t stop, how no one plucks meteors
from paths we just go belly-up. We’re out here breathing. They say we came
from oceans with an algae skin. How the sunlight filtered over waves.
How we both love and hate to feel tiny on the edge of something, something
made into a pattern. We draw short paths, space cultivates the long-term. Examine
the body moving towards you. Examine the body in a constantly-expanding plane.
Examine the body with palms upturned. Someone told me that we’re a part of space
and I guess that’s true. So what if space is a part of us. So what if I don’t want
the next world, it’s already here. As in we are fragments of stone and mud and star.