By Michael Jenkins
Try connecting the dots like the ancients–
each lonely star born into an image,
this one the image of God.
Watch their black gulf reveal the flirting vastness of it all,
as if the distances draw them together.
Remember, too, the continents scattered over our mantelpiece
like the lost pieces of our jig-saw puzzle.
How does it fit such that
even the school children
in their scuffed-up-hand-me-,-down sneakers on the blacktops
see what others miss?-
This bigger picture,
these free-handed chalk lines
sketched between objects.
Who else knows
what dense matter knows?
how the space between atoms
matters densely– this space
between you
and
me.
