Sally
yes the heart will stop beating
maybe it’s best to be a star
shining long after its own death
named and noted—light studied
yes the heart is hosting a fleshly galaxy
a creature, perhaps a manatee
or a monster undiscovered
deep down in the deep down sea
dark in the unfathomable
space is just there always as it was
when a heart beat inside a woman
whose womb bore the womb
that bore the womb that bore
the womb that bore you
nobody but me recalls my great great
great great great grandma Barsheeba
tonight, or recalls her mother
Sally, just Sally, history blanked
no maiden name, b. 1782
in Tennessee, her mother
unknown to me but planets
are big time and space
is a hot topic, a possibility
unlike germs, and eternity
eternity is full of galaxies which
die too as will we all
go extinct—with us everything
ever believed or proven
except space of course
will remain but who will know
it goes on? For example,
not Sally. Or, after all, Sally.