Outer Space - Julie Allyn Johnson

Outer Space

— We have stardust in us as old as the universe…
National Geographic

Four elements comprise the universe,
particles of which reside within my body.

Hydrogen swims in the frothy reservoir
of my aqueous humor.
Carbon’s inhale, exhale
of cellular respiration.
Nitrogen, fixer and seducer
of hormonal synapses.
Oxygen. Here, in my fingertips.

Mighty Jupiter burrows
as chi between the creviced
burrows of every toe on each foot.

Rocks and meteors,
comets and asteroids —
a microscopic coating
of crushed dust
inside my cerebellum
no brainer.

Or just another black hole?

Crumbling cosmos —
yielding, folding
stretching, expanding —
far-flung molecules
leached into
a sea of galaxies,

our human bodies
insignificant
way-stations

or celestial transports
after our own stars
have faded from view?

Originally published by Phantom Kangaroo 2021

Julie Allyn Johnson is a sawyer's daughter from the American Midwest whose current obsession is tackling the rough and tumble sport of quilting and the accumulation of fabric.  A Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee, her poetry can be found in Star*Line, The Briar Cliff Review, Phantom Kangaroo, Lyrical Iowa, Moss Piglet, Cream Scene Carnival, Coffin Bell, The Lake, Haikuniverse, Chestnut Review and other journals.  Julie enjoys photography and writing daily haiku, both of which can be found on her blog, A Sawyer’s Daughter.