by Chelsey Lucas
I
inhaled twice
and felt my mind t i p
and touch the
e
d
g
e
of the
universe.
It was beautiful.
She was curved and disproportionate in a fashion similar to ocean waves
r e a c h i n g
for the sky, the moon, the night; the satellites
of Her eyes shone and sent mixed signals to my
lips, my hands, my skin – all goosebumped and intoxicated –
I
felt the shape of Her hair, Her spine, the
l i n e o f Her c l a v i c l e
I felt Her tremble beneath the weight of my fingertips
– a ripple beneath the looking glass water interrupted;
a meteor shower through the atmosphere, She let me in
I
swam in Her warmth, surrounded in Her
I fell into Her black holes and surfaced for air
I lifted and twisted against the absence of gravity – the (s)urge to gratify –
to hold Her.
To stay.
Exhale: I watched Her f a d e.
Chelsey Lucas is a first year student at SCF, and a lover of English, art, and expression.