On Being RIght

by John Survivor Blake
(Albuquerque, New Mexico)

'Do you remember the face you made
when I said you are a star-burst
and the world I have been accustomed to
spins new; that you are many dreams
dressed in one skin; that you are a supernova
and I could prove it?

Do you remember?

Well, scientists have recorded supernovas,
mid-surrender to heat, friction and courage,
an array of dawns and dusks braided in bliss,
a star-shift, kicking in a womb, caressed, turned
as if every hue we know, and some we don’t
bouquet-ed on scene to witness perfection, and if
there was ever a harp large enough for a God
to pluck this recording of a supernova

sounds like your breathing,

It has a pulse, heartbeat of a dragon and sigh
of the most loving mother ending her longest day,
a last lung-push before a dream cries to life,
splits itself , give every direction like the way
you fluttered air when we said Love,

I know you hate when I’m right, but

you need to accept the fact; you are magnificent
expansion of light dancing on the fingertip
of a black hole I’ve always been, one truth
in all my unknown.

Listen to a supernova explode in yes,
watch it twist sky like bread, make food
my wishes eat, see why I slave awake to watch you sleep,

Tell me
it doesn’t sound
just like you.'

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