Getting There

The ship was long
and low-ceilinged, one
seamless slab of foreign ore—
a speed-of-light leviathan chilled
by the endlessness of space. Deep
in its belly I came upon an infinitely-
faceted ember—webbed, sanguine.
It fired and hissed, crackled
and burned and called
my name. By some unsung osmosis
it took me in. Through its gentle,
fibrous walls I saw the darkness break

away; a shell cracked on the lip
of some bowl. We took on
an axis and spin as
we rocked into orbit. I knew,
then, that we had to mimic the
universe to move through it.
Where I expected stars, pins
of light unfolded revealing
petals and anthers, pollen and
stamen—the flora of our very
existence. I laughed
and cried, cradled
by suns and moons.