FOR NOW
By Irisa Teng
For now, I undetonate. to lunar highlands, the ISS is home
to a conclusion. the sublime pries. to everything, I am only peripheral.
For now, the footnote my diagnosis. the contemporary
my burning of gravity. I learned optics. I know of being
virtual; the doubled distance between image and object.
to being decoded, the signals say to the radar. but believe me, even if
I’m only radiation talking, believe me, everything is
expanding,
it’s expanding on an inhale
but there’s only so much air I can hold before
the red shift proves my therapist’s notes. before
I’m torn from brain to bone.
Henri-Louis Bergson knew it and I
know it.
/
For now,
but the stitches on my forearms
dethread. my skin unspools and I’m Voyager 0
t-minus-0 from a heat death. I promised I wouldn’t
be a supernova, but that was then.
For now, the universe wants
our ashes. For now, we are born to be cinder.
I DIDN'T FACT CHECK THIS, BUT
By Irisa Teng
if space smells
like a burnt gun
i want it
in my mouth
if emptiness smells
like charred air
then it must’ve once
lost to a fire
a foster flower that
chose itself first
a shot! that
took itself out
the universe was created
by suicide
a supernova saying No,
an atomic breakup
an undoing of everything and
nothing, aural
fissures and black points
in portraits around white
freckles, it calls.
like i’m next,
it calls to me quietly.
Irisa Teng loves a good physics metaphor. A young poet from Washington state, their work appears or is forthcoming in Evanescent Magazine, The Looking Glass Review, and The Eyre. They edit and design for Bardics Anonymous. Beyond writing, they can be found musing about the ever-expanding universe.