There’s a factory on the outskirts
of town.
On the outskirts of the universe.
They fabricate bones there, and
crack open stars like eggs.
Stars and eggs share many qualities.
They have an outer shell, and it’s
penetrable, and delicate.
This delicate wall is holding the
juices of life.
One crack, two cracks, three, and
a flood gate crumbles and
life comes rushing in. Life juice,
star juice. They pour star juice in our eyes
and sow skin.
They put a mountain in one sown figure and
call it man,
They put an ocean in another and call it woman.
I was manufactured, factored,
a factor, it’s
Fact: in reality, in actual actuality.