It is the noise that boundaries my infinity. My inevitable
crumble and decay.
My space must be less than infinite. Inside my body there
must be quantifiable galaxies. The darkness and depth
tempered. A multiverse of “yets” and “howevers” and
I wonder, though. I wonder if I were to spread open my
chest, would gaseous columns emerge from my cavity?
Would the stars inside my brain loosen and crash into my
exposed womb? Am I the potential of dead space?
Things echo. Howls, explosions. The ghosts of sound
promise me, not with whispers, but with matter. With the
approaching ascent. The hot promise of sweat behind knees,
of calloused feet and toes.
I reach out and find.
J. Gay was born and raised in Louisiana. She received her Bachelor’s from the College of Santa Fe and her Master’s from Stonecoast. She lives in New Mexico with her husband and son. Decomposition is her first chapbook. Her website is jgaywriting.com.
Darren C. Demaree is the author of three poetry collections, As We Refer to Our Bodies (2013, 8th House), Temporary Champions (2014, Main Street Rag), and Not For Art For Prayer (2015, 8th House). He is the recipient of three Pushcart Prize nominations and a Best of the Net nomination. He is also a founding editor of Ovenbird Poetry and AltOhio. He is currently living in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.
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