SQN - Sine Qua Non - Issue 1 - Journal - Page 96
Andrea Figueroa-Irizarry
Olber’s Paradox
The universe is not wrought with wonder
over its infinity. It is vast, and it is empty,
white pocked on a black sheet flowing
just outside of reach, but you tell me how
an astronomer said that infinity would mean
turning our heads to a blank canvas, our eyes
skipping from one star to another star to another.
You point to the darkness between, above,
and your fingertips trace Orion’s belt loops
and show me the way Pisces scoops down
the middle, and you say we wouldn’t have this,
wouldn’t get to make symbols out of space.
We wouldn’t know darkness––too bright for
shadows in alleyways and monsters in
childhood bedrooms––but I say we wouldn’t
know light, either, right? You don’t answer,
not right away, and we watch the non-infinite
until there’s a sliver of light on the horizon,
stare at the night’s inky skin until the lids
close over each white. Your paintbrush fingers
rest over mine, and as the blues touch the pinks
touch the orange touch the freckles on your cheeks,
there’s a touch of shadow below your lashes,
dark dots on pale skin flittering as you blink.
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