suppose the sun won’t rise tomorrow,
we would have to make our own light
hearts burn starshine, burn straight through skin
it becomes common for people to implode.
at our core we are stardust still, warm,
gathered up by hand
after every supernova the universe expands
like skin, stretched tight over rushing veins
the brightest thing for lightyears.
Adrienne Rozells is interested in writing as a form of connection and education. She is co-founder/EIC at Catchwater Magazine, and has been published in Kissing Dynamite and Wilder Voice. Find her on Instagram @rozellswrites or Twitter @arozells. She loves strawberries, dogs, and extrapolating wildly about the existence of Bigfoot.