By Anisha Mauze

 

There is something

these dendrites at the end of my fingertips

cannot touch.

A past time

where I could pass time

doing what, I don’t really know.

Now I climb trees

hoping their antenna branches

can contact satellites,

because they know all the answers.

Why we feel in neurotransmitters

and the difference

between what makes people tick

and what makes them talk.

This knowing,

it feels like electricity in my veins.

It feels like my cells

are galaxies.

It feels like there are more wonders in this world

then there are fingers to count them with.

My lungs have holes in them

for my breath to escape through

even though it is already taken

far too easily.

We are all miracles.

Carbon-base we may be,

but then again, so are diamonds.

We are all diamonds.

Sharp and clear

and if there’s one thing I know

it’s that satellites

are always

right.

Published on page 42 of the Spring 2012 issue of Leviathan.

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