I watch our arms sew together under gravity's needle. Our fingers bloom roses as our blood shines and spins together on our now single palm.
Mother watches from home through her crumbling telescope. She sees us suspended in half kiss. She waits for impact of hips, her fingers moist, slipping off her eyepiece. She wipes the sweat from her lip.
When I feel her gaze on the soul of my foot I know she is watching with cataracts and bifocals. I am the same age a when I left her while she cries dust on her cracking refracting lens. She can't look away at my stuck body, rigormortic, frozen and unfocused in her left eye.
She sits down and dies. I have just begun.
Playing with the idea of Relativity. A piece partially about my love affair with the cosmos.