When the glass shattered, the sound of light shot,
then rang, through more bodies than I could count.
It felt something like forgiveness
or honking geese nesting in my hair,
the melody of pinecones, walnuts, and acorns raining from my branches,
the chords of zinnias sprouting from my toes.
This is a poem of Sister Mary Ellen’s eighth grade science class.
This is a poem of atoms.
I am the poem:
the holy grail of the unified field–
pulsing, writhing, breathing.
When the steam scalded skin, the sound of light sang,
then kissed each curve of this body.
It felt something like surrender or the soft murmur
of bees, a lover’s sigh from under the covers,
the splash of rain in a puddle.
This is a poem of the Earth and stars.
This is a poem of atoms.
You are the poem:
the holy grail of emptiness and form–
arising, dying, dancing.
The Human Constellation, 2016