Sixty million light years away from us
two galaxies collide, appearing as
a Dali embryo, evolved light dust
cloud forming transparent heart of smoked glass
surrounding it—bolus of glittering
pastel jewels gestating inside like
some melting, glowing juke box sputtering
then exploding. Love, shall our bodies strike
with such mad, molten force we form new stars
as they do, our gravitational tides
crushing and stretching our psyches as far
as future planets, our frames’ pressing sides
pulling us within each other, to feel
and share secret heavens the gods conceal?
Roger Armbrust
May 7, 2010
