by Brandi Capozzi
This is the place where the mind turns,
revolution layered upon revolution.
Sheltered by a stitched steel dome.
The mechanism locks.
We make a new world—
It is night here, always.
The moon hangs low.
Brood parasites stab their beaks
at the last fibers
of silver twisting time.
You have learned to traverse
the water top. But
I’m not there.
I descend to its depths where darkness bleeds
droplets of fire-flicker light.
Cobalt blue plasma spears
at my hand for the catching.
“You cannot pierce
a black hole,” you say. “You cannot hold it still—
stop the expanse.”
Tell me instead,
“There are no cracks to leak out the frailty of this
We can stay under forever.”
I try to traverse this with you,
and suddenly I feel like I might drown
standing atop the water,
exposed to the soft recoil of the wind
when it breathes.
I made this moon-black box
so I could bang against its walls.
A tremor from beneath pushes up.
The dying stars wilt from the sky,
submerge into the rivets of the ocean.
Brandi Capozzi lives in Port Murray, New Jersey where she is currently working in retail and spends her off time working on her writing. She graduated from the Richard Stockton College of New Jersey in December 2012 with a BA in English Literature.