by Joseph Ferguson
Late at night,
When the house creaks
And mice make tiny music
To the opening
And closing
Of car doors
In the street,
I think of you
Waving in winter
From a bridge of snow,
Coat a green puff
On white canvass,
Hair,
Black brush strokes
On the bluster.
There, beyond midnight,
While earth turns
Toward sun,
And television
Fills the room
With the blue glow
Of the Big Bang.
As you sleep above me,
Beneath the attic,
And an expanding universe,
I see us moving
Like two stars
At light speed,
Away
Away
Always away…
From one another.
Deep in that darkness,
When the workings
Of mice
And men
And galaxies
Make themselves
Known,
And reflection
Seems a quantum,
Tangible force,
That can act upon
The physical world,
I fill our small universe
With theories,
Of pasts, and
Possible futures,
And hope for
The missing mass
That will send us
On that great
Gravitational tumble
Together again.
