Floating

Untethered, a slight tilt, a little floating comma drifting out of all relation into dark nothing – a blank in blackness – twisting away away away…

Gravity always holds us cradled in her arms like a scab she nurses but we cannot take this as love. The ocean, that great gaping heart of the world, calls out to us, aching and bruised, but still we edge away, inch by inch, all the time paralysed by heavy-duty suits and exceptionalism, as we reach out, rigidly, for a hug.

You hold yourself aslant, the tip of your own hemisphere, a circumference hole and entire, above clouds and horizons and ozone layers. No one knows you exist, unfathomable spot, the million million man, outside of the atmosphere but never out of sight.