In my childhood, I didn't quite know what I was,

But I knew I wanted to swallow the sun so I could be a star too.

Too timid, I crept from a dream once lustrous and promising-

Dead dream, bad dream.

But I kept my mouth open wide,

Gentle yawning maw.

 

In my preteen years, I wanted to pluck

All of the night stars out of the sky

And nurse them back to health because I couldn't stand the thought 

Of dust from dead stars

Floating beyond reach and human understanding,

Outer space orbit, hand in hand with pieces of

Broken satellite and wishes made at 11:11.

Too weak, I made a paper crane with that dream and pretended it was

A rocket ship.

I let it die with the stars at the midnight masquerade.

When it rained,

I thought of the blood on my hands.

 

Now, I am taking up space. I am a solar system.

I am a shooting star. I am vast midnight

Rays of moonlight. I am a galaxy.

I am washing the blood off my hands

And scraping stardust from beneath my fingernails.

When you look out your window at twilight,

You will see me in gold streaks and silver twinkles.

The stars in your eyes will collide with mine,

And you will understand that in my childhood,

I wanted to be Andromeda, 

And now, 

I am,

The universe.