Poem: “out of range”

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out of range

it’s been a few months since I’ve written
poems about something
other than people I know getting swallowed
up by the spaces between the stars.

scientists say there’s light everywhere
in an infinite universe
but the dark spaces have always given me
a place to sit,
a warmth that hasn’t reached
the corner between my refrigerator and the floor.

I don’t always recognize myself in the swill
of the river and its unknown bodies,
there’s no lighthouse on my coast.

so I don’t always conduct that poetic spark
and I don’t always feel good about finding
a way through the mirrored glass
to meet the central bulb.
but I’d still like to think that wherever you look
there’s light
even if it’s out of range.

 

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