Thursday, April 30, 2020

For my father

They took the first photo of a black hole the same month you died.
Coincidence, of course, but isn’t
everything?

Nothing isn’t nothing.
A black hole is matter so compressed that nothing can escape:
nothing can be seen because too much is present.

Black holes wear crowns of matter so superheated that they glow;
but the eyes can see only these coronas.
The light, the dark--
we know the one because we know the other.

The density of everything you were and knew and loved
compressed into one heart, my heart--what could hold that
and not be heavy?
I carry the weight of another soul with me.
I carry the light, too.

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