by Michael Jenkins
Try connecting the dots
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalike the ancients–
each lonelyaaaaaaastaraaaaaaaaaaaborn into an image,
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathis one the image of God.
Watch their black gulf reveal
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathe flirting vastness of it all,
as if the distancesaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadraw them together.
Remember, too, the continents scattered over our mantelpiece
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaalike the lost pieces of our jig-saw puzzle.
How does it fit such that
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaeven the school children
in their scuffed-up-hand-me-,-down sneakers on the blacktops
see what others miss?-aaaaaaaaa aaThis bigger picture,
these free-handedaaaaaaaaaaaa aaachalk lines
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasketched between objects.
Who else knows
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawhat dense matter knows?
how the spaceaaaabetweenaaa aaaaatoms
matters densely–aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathis space
between you
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaandaaaaaaaaaaa me.