Ghosted fashion, sunglasses of darker mist,
and a bridge to be traversed,
although arrivals on a further shore
are never the ones who left.
For her, no warm embraces,
no distant tears;
without a moment’s regretful hesitation
she begins her journey.
The river far below is flowing russet, jetsam waves,
and tiny stars above are
little suns that can’t grow up, afterimages of
a universe long lost, afloat in panoramic darkness.
She purchases refreshment at a lemonade stand,
and later at a crossroads meets
seven directions spinning on a compass
with marginal gravitation and bubble headed
astronauts who rise and fall.
Around a corner, a traveler’s inn—
a swinging sign, the hotel blue, and a lantern
marked with geodesics
that hangs above the door.
She’ll stop and rest, she thinks,
if the tariff is not unreasonable.
In a space-time twist, the hotel hides a universe,
a solar system planeted in a copacetic zone.
The traveler becomes less tenuous, more cellular,
carbon-based, a life form evolved
to go to school, with chromosomes to laugh and cry,
lovers, family, a fiancé,
and all their helical threads,
doubled and invisible,
form a web that binds her to a world in blue.
The undiluted truth, its cold
and lonely math, is lost.
But now and then, on nights
when distant thunder tears the canvas sky,
she recalls a bridge
and a hyphenated journey still in store.