My heart breaks against the stars.
A weight presses against the back of my chest,
The smothering sky urges me to cower. A blade lowers over my third eye.
Maybe the answer to the question nobody’s asking
Is to stand up and let myself be split from stem to stern,
To let my heart open itself to the night full of cold,
Shudder and hemorrhage at the bright emptiness;
To step into the lapping wetness
Past the shifting brink that defends our plateau from groundlessness,
Fall into the tossing grey water promising nothing.
I like to think that when Atlas had enough he let the sky down
And watched heaven through the cracks that opened as it fell
Like light-filled spheres of infinity—
And if raindrops were universes of their own,
Flashing and breaking in the scintillating light and darkness,
Shining to life in thunder and shattering
On the hardness below with each fresh blink,
Who would know?