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Denise Baker

Eternity

 

Galaxies spill into black holes for glacial centuries.

Crushed plasma erupts, sculpts new universes.

 

I am the invisible particle between the greater than and less than symbols.

I wander from the path, crushing the evolution of countless beings.

 

 

Float

 

Wordless space hovers.

Breath holds the fish midair.

 

Tara floats on her lotus.

I evolve arms and legs to claw at future and past.

 

 

Void

 

Stars and planets roll like marbles into the funnel.

The great womb spits blood, mucus, form.

 

I am the grain of sand hovering in the birth canal between hour glass bulbs.

My complaints soil all eternity that flows after me.



Denise is just another human who will die someday. It will not greatly matter that she is author of a poetry chapbook titled Eat the Apple; that she served as Managing Editor of Dunes Review; or that her poetry has appeared in Bitter Oleander. She talks to sunflowers and stares at water for long periods of time.