Robin Cedar

Celestial Bodies

I will never see gravity

pulling down through

a black hole, but

I believe. It flexes when

 

I knock my favorite teacup

off the desk and it smashes.

I trust that if I were to fall

into a black hole, I would

 

stretch and then break – sometimes I

think about pregnancy. My mom

would have the grandchild she’s always

wanted. But that would be

 

the only reason to stretch

my body wide: for the sake

of the one who stretched for me.

This is what I know

 

of space: dead starlight, skeletons

still seen in the sky long

after they’re gone. I know that

someday our sun will swell

 

into a red giant, only

to dissipate – never

to be that bright and blinding,

flaring supernova.

 

This is what I know of my body:

I’ve never held a man’s

heart long enough that it burns

in my palms, a bright star

 

whose orbit I fall towards

and revolve. I’ve compressed

myself down until I’m too small

to house a child, the gravity

 

at my center too strong

for anyone else to break open.

 

 

Confessions of a Quasar

I miss the taste of stardust, miss hoarding the odds &

ends of elements around my accretion disk – back

when I was a swirling startling stamp of electrons,

when I was new & didn’t know any better –

 

do you remember?

 

you both smashed together & became me, this one

starving creature –

you spiraled inward & ate each other alive

 

& you should have known it

would destroy you                       & create me,

   this spark of light

& dark energy

 

there’s almost nothing left of you –

 

what was once one &

what was once the other

whatever became of you –

it’s warped in me

 

I’m an outpouring of light –

you took too much with you &

it will soon

disperse & I will be done

 

scientists studying me already know so little, they

don’t know what to make of my screaming,

what to make of me, the remnant

of galaxies cramming together

 

I suck in the nothing to fill what can’t be filled

 

I’ve learned emptiness never diminishes such hunger

 


Robin Cedar is a recent graduate from Oregon State University, where she earned her MFA in poetry. She serves as poetry editor and social media manager for 45th Parallel. Her work has appeared in Blue Mesa Review, Front Porch Journal, Leveler, The Fem, and elsewhere.


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