by amy sharp

The distance between all the words I don't say is magnificent. It's like space. I read books about the universe to my boy and his eyes are wide like the sun. We talk about supernovas. Luminosity. The way one can outshine the galaxy for a brief time. So powerful and so dangerous. I whisper softly over his pale hair. I silently tell him that his mama is a supernova. I say it three times. He doesn’t hear me. I don’t think anyone can.