and we notice our bellies
and thighs, breasts and butts,
the way body parts
push and pull against
gravity, curve space and time

and we notice everything
our spouse didn’t

say
do
touch
hold
fill
empty
want
feel
desire

gaps in the maps
we believe we know how
someone else should fill them in

and we notice the comment
our co-worker made about
our spreadsheet six months
ago, the rumors of promotions
we orbit around as if we were Mercury,
too small,
too close to the sun
and we notice the emptiness
at the center of our
lives, as dense as supernovas
we’ve never seen,
as mysterious as the dark matter
of our souls, as vast as the universe,
which is always paying attention
to something else altogether.

 

 

 

 


Kevin Brown

KEVIN BROWN

Kevin Brown is a Professor at Lee University.  He has published three books of poetry:  Liturgical Calendar: Poems (Wipf and Stock); A Lexicon of Lost Words(winner of the Violet Reed Haas Prize for Poetry, Snake Nation Press); and Exit Lines (Plain View Press), in addition to a memoir and a book of scholarship.  You can find out more about him and his work at http://www.kevinbrownwrites.com/