Jennifer Bullis

Space?

The final front, dear. Wave masquerades
as particle at the Ball of Time.
Later, it’s not just a matter
of seeing the universe in a grain;                             

it’s that all space gains its grit from light.
Don’t ignore illumination, past or present,
of asteroids, or dust. Don’t be fooled
by eyesight’s saying It’s dark. Your eyes 

throw sparks in every direction.
Every ash ignited, is igniting,
will ignite again. The universe
does not cease to shine because 

it does not cease to matter. Go ahead,
take a moment. Now: that’s enough.

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Jennifer Bullis is the author of the chapbook Impossible Lessons (MoonPath Press) and of work appearing in Gulf Coast, Indiana Review, Iron Horse, RHINO Poetry and terrain.org. She is an Artsmith Residency Fellow, recipient of honorable mention for the Gulf Coast Prize and finalist for the Brittingham & Felix Pollak Prize. She holds a Ph.D. from University of California-Davis and lives in Bellingham, Washington, where she writes about long-distance foot travel, deforestation, horse-keeping, repurposing myth and women in the courtroom.