There is No Gravity Here

By Elise Kelly

We will sit in the sofaseat
curves of a ladle-bow crater
You click off my astronaut helmet
while I unmask your alien face

These skulls
like Greek wedding plates
shatter into the cosmos
and scatter amongst the stars
Filigreed flecks of cortex
connect
in dot-to-dot constellation coloring books

Our batwing tongues flap
against the still air
blind
Echolocating each other’s orbits
in a place without sound
The moon’s moons

And there we will be
our ruptured crowns like bloodied daffodils
our thrashing eyes like streamered kites
You and me
crystal balls cracking in the galaxy
Cerebellums so
spaced out
Unsafe yet soundly wondering
how our amygdalae learned to hold hands

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Elise Kelly studies creative writing at Bard College at Simon's Rock and is an award winning poet with work published by The Mad Ones, For Women Who Roar, K'in Literary Journal, Pour Vida, and Pomme Journal. Elise prefers experimental literature, but she also plays with traditional fiction, spoken word, music, and translation. Her Instagram handle is @elise.writes.