Friday, September 16, 2011

Friday Love Poem: Jennifer-Leigh Oprihory!

Black Holes for Beginners

“i will love you til death, but eternity, i'm sorry eternity is reserved for the stars” 
–Thomas Fucaloro

In my dreams, it all comes out effortlessly.

You stroll into a room after a lifetime of awkward silences and apologetics
looking more Ferris Bueller than Mr. Rochester
your mind having finally balanced the equation of your insides.

Even though you still wear your paper heart like armor,
you’re not afraid of it flying away anymore.
Instead, you hand me the string of a kite
& tell me not to flinch if I pull it and don’t see light.

When the paper crane of you begins to bleed,
I feel the first bit of comfort in a while,
realize that vulnerability is its own kind of poetry
and decide to never trouble you with words again.

From this point on, I resolve to speak in science and stars
the only logic you have faith in
& the only things that haven’t failed me yet.
They are the breadcrumbs I throw up in surrender 
after accepting that someone else’s body can be home.

When you look at me bewildered 
because I’m utterly bewildered,
I explain that the first rule of dealing with black holes
Is knowing that they don’t exist.

Technically defined as the greatest possible amount of matter
packed into the tiniest volume of space
They are invisible to everybody but scientists
who turns x-rays into invisible ink
at which point you stare at me like I have three heads
but it’s okay
because you’re cute when you’re confused
and I’m good at that
and this officially isn’t a dream anymore.

You see, black holes
have such a high concentration of gravity
that they tear apart everything in their path
including common sense
and better judgment
and, in most cases, eloquence.
So, from the mouth of a disaster waiting to happen:
fall apart with me.

According to the laws of chemistry,
constitutional isomers are molecules with different rearrangements of the same identity
manipulated to function more efficiently
especially when bonding with other things.

I know that orgo was never your niche
but there’s something to be said
for rebuilding yourself for the sake of becoming complete
and not letting all of the messy things that happened to make us
define the blueprints of who we’re meant to be

so, here’s to bathing in ink
until we can’t remember where our stories start
and finding our way in the dark.

You bring the blind faith.
I’ll take care of the stars.

Bio: Jennifer-Leigh Oprihory is a connoisseur of carpe diem and light. Slam Mistress of the upcoming Pleasantville Poetry Slam in Hawthorne, New Jersey & editor-in-chief of the online poetry journals Borderline and Anatomy + Etymology, her work has been featured in journals including The Legendary, Breadcrumb Scabs, Troubadour 21, and Four and Twenty.  She wants to help you rediscover your heart, one syllable at a time. For more information, check out her website at

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