by Edward Michael Supranowicz
Particles
The gravitational wave passed through me
as I was brushing my teeth. The middle of my night
is not the middle of yours. Was it a star
spinning? It’s a problem of being tenuous.
I’m barely holding this bundle of cells
together, bones and nerves clanking,
I am both swollen and diminished.
Ladybugs crawled into bed with us,
nesting before winter.
Exoskeletons scattered the sheets in the morning,
wings shining at our feet.
Sharon Denmark is an artist and writer living in Virginia. She spends her days managing a hospice thrift shop, sorting through life’s leftovers.
Edward Michael Supranowicz is the grandson of Irish and Russian/Ukrainian immigrants. He grew up on a small farm in Appalachia. He has a grad background in painting and printmaking. Some of his artwork has recently or will soon appear in Fish Food, Streetlight, Another Chicago Magazine, The Door Is a Jar, The Phoenix, and The Harvard Advocate. Edward is also a published poet.