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Washed in the Flame of a Small Galaxy
For Jenny
Jenny waits 3,000 moon-shaped miles away
In Berkeley as I streak to be with her
This daughter of mine
whom time has washed
In the flame of a small galaxy
where only certain children
Are born, those who can feel
the brightest clouds
and lead the rest of us
To the edges of our worlds
Up the mountains of our lives
Instructing us to part the curtains
demand light
And share it with those who have trouble
stepping out of the shadows.
This is Jennifer, from that small galaxy
who broke the code
right from the beginning.
Donald Everett Axinn
From Change as a Curved Equation
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