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 http://phoenixpoet.info.