I was obligated to continue.
The tiny alveoli
of my lungs burst
into a galaxy of suns.
There was a release of energy.
I floated in the space between cells
like dust, suspended
in the anti-shape of my room.
What skin sheds and what stars explode
reflect light that’s traveled a continuum
of miles to be translated into
the language of eyes.
(Originally appeared in The Pedestal Magazine)
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