“from Mary and Andromeda” by Steve Liu
I.
How a sperm and egg combine
to explode screaming into the world
how humans age (messily)
then mature slowly into their own cosmos
slow enough
for tectonic movements to occur
in which they are shaped and molded
a process which hurts — like love —
the way muscles break themselves apart
to get bigger
II.
This world
like a single-celled organism
or a starfish
automatically regenerating
from within
would require, of course
a predecessor
akin to a parent
rocking the cradle
but who would claim ownership
of this universe?
would she be
nurturing?
or stoic and full of quiet
expectation?
she is certainly not human
in any way we can recognize,
hard as it sometimes is
to attribute humanity
to each other.
III.
The universe a womb, expanding
at an accelerating rate until it slows
suggesting a womb reaches heat-death before birth
suggesting room to grow
the walls racing
faster than we can see
the scientists racing
toward the meaning of life
sometimes I am happy
and sometimes afraid
to be conveyed in this way
forever in the direction
of some limit
foreign yet so familiar.
IV.
Made in the time eyes close
and filled by a trillion stars,
blackness then
lightness
a blink
I do this whenever
I am afraid of myself,
and wish I could love
like the planets do
affectionate
but not intimate
which feels wrong
as I often conflate distance
with beauty
I don’t believe people
who claim beauty
or goodness is born of conflict,
or that there is no heaven here
because I swear
one beautiful thing can be born
from another
like when a dancer who
getting old and slow
dances better
V.
There was a father figure
who made love to a mother
in his milky way
and played good music while making love—
if they made love, that is—
perhaps they nested within each other
without gender, like how an ocean swells
after rain, expectant
silver pushing against blue sky
colors passing through, inside and out
the parameters of humanity
like how dreams create
entirely new memories
from something normal.
VI.
With dancing being the human thing
that reconciles
the loss of a child
which surely happened once
or twice, draining their world
of color
the father pacing on the porch,
recovering from yet-another-argument
and feeling the sobering air
on his skin
replaying her words in
his head
deservedly
for he’d retreated into the part of his mind
that fears itself
this is never unique
to one species
tears also exist on other planets
comparison being what crushes
even in other universes
there are rocks and
things that other worlds found beautiful
such as the space freed up
once pain is removed
or the pain removed
once the space is filled.
VII.
They both conceived
the universe
—both were mother
and father
and
felt equally the pain
when the singularity failed to burst into a Big Bang,
instead becoming, yes
a black hole
a void demanding energy giving none
and believing themselves failures
Sorry
for what they knew was no one’s fault—
one day
they’ll be able again
to walk gladly along the shore
collecting seashells
like kids
shy and adventurous
the shells
the homes abandoned
by dead molluscs
admiring them
and the colors, thus
electing joy
over sadness.
Steve Liu writes for The Michigan Daily and SHEI Magazine. He also runs Canopy, an experimental magazine focused on spreading care through art, literature, and place.
