Saturday, March 12, 2022

the cosmological constant

Like the blanket that comes untucked 

clutched closer around the shoulders 

against the looming night or 

the cloud rolled into rain, we go

missing, the intent taking sides with

a direction, the motion alone 

enough to empty the tomb of

every dead end, the once both

phenomenon and constant,

fiddling with the figures until

the equation fits, this touch 

a place where my name filled in, 

a calculation to make the story 

stick together, a back then

coming around again, the moment 

here and there because 

I am saying it to you.


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