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fractal heart

Christopher Gagnon

The edge is on fire,
out at the end of the universe.

It burns, it melts,
it sizzles and pops
like a fat-greased skillet.

Words do not work here.

The sky is littered with stars,
a thousand billion million
thousand hundred trillion stars,
but my thoughts like water
always sink back down
into the earth.

I live in that place,
out at the end of things,
where it’s not fit for living.
An old man.

I tend to the new space.
I give it order. Give it weight.
I give it purpose, but I am not god.
I am no maker.

Soon it will end;
the edge will meet the edge
and the fire will turn in
on us all.

My love was like the edge.
It was a god for you,
cleaving order from chaos.
Being from not-being.

[I still know the song heard
in the seam of your skin
I hum your melody listen]

Memories have kept
something human inside.

They are my eyes.
They are my heart.

And sometimes,
when I see a new star ignite
ablaze with the fury of youth,
I glimpse your face in its fire,
and I feel your heat
against my cheek.

And for just that one second
you are with me.
You are here. I was real.

It is enough.

Watch: fractal heart animated video by Sterling Hundley
Read: collaboration of fractal heart

Christopher Gagnon lives in North Carolina. He has a dog that he enjoys treating peanut butter pretzel nuggets. He insists he is not a poet, but he submitted fractal heart after receiving strong encouragement from a friend and actual poet, Rye Brayley.