Infinity is a Field

by Aly Northrup

In nity is a eld of cerulean ax
Blooming, broken golden stalks and seeds,
Life and death a reliable whim of the world,
Earth recycled,
Horizon to horizon, blue then gold, then blue again, No beginning

No end

Waves of useful,

          worthless,

                    infinite

                            gold.

And I run my fingers through her deep-rooted hair,
I play with the stuff of the universe—
Stringy, tangled, quivering bers,
Matter and shadow enmeshed in matter and shadow, Amiably drowning in the ocean that never ends. And

I am alone.