A galaxy with earthbound feet
With a spiral left unfurled
God plays dice; but no one wins
We can't touch what weighs us down.
We saw you on a piece of film
Blown up a hundred times
It's all that's left of your brief sojourn
We never learned your name.
We saw it in the doctor's eyes
He couldn't meet our gaze
Gravity's weight bent our backs
You were gone but we don't know where.
Do you live in a black hole at the edge of the void?
Does a nova breastfeed you each night?
No radio signal to show us the way
For our rendezvous-orbit in space.
Rosalie Brinn cannot imagine not writing; as she cannot imagine not being able to breathe. Everything that has happened to her is, in some way, in her writing. Nothing is wasted.