THE VOID

The void is not even void.
It gushes like a wound in your food.
Your grandmother knew,
nestling your brown voice
in her quilt of bones.
Now pay attention to what pays attention.
Secrets will reveal themselves,
atoms of pain instantly swollen
into galaxies the size of tears.
Your gaze circling the earth
like a shapeless moon.
The eye of space itself awakening.
And your own breath will heal you.