I will slowly pull myself apart:
fingernails, heart, vocal folds, tendons;
I will pour my liquids into a bucket:
blood, water, stomach acid, urine;
I will section and cube myself out,
a series of Lego building blocks,
multiplying to smaller bits as I focus;
the energy in one pile
the matter in another;
the dreams in one pile
the aspirations in another;
the facts in one pile
the opinions in another;
the small, fragile soul:
a butterfly wing, dusted and folded in on itself, the center is radiant liquid endlessly looping… Come here, peer into the root, look closely.
Do you see? Do you see do you see doyousee?
Do you see what is inside?
Together we cup it, you and I,
As if I had hands, but you can imagine the cool radiating off of my finger pads,
We close our cupped palms, lower
then throw it, glowing,
back to home,
back to one million moons, the sound of sadness long passed,
and back to the core of metallic hydrogen pulling me ever closer.