Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsFall 2020  Vol. 19 No. 2
an online journal of literature and the arts
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The Singularity Keeps to Himself

When you return from outer space
with bag loads of your clothes, clean and dirty
they think you just another visit from a comet
in the solar system. You’re a dying star.
Iron has manifested in your core and
the explosion of rust is imminent.
When you called your friend, she conveyed worry
about the lack of devastation in your syllables
and you both remarked how you two may be psychopaths.
Why is it we always tell bad news in the kitchen?

They have no idea about how much you’ve suffered.
You don’t tell them because they try to give you magic.
Their advice comes without anesthetic, and when you tell them,
tell them you’ve ended it, they cannot hear you. In space
a black hole is only visible when surrounded by stars.
When you finally cry, hours later, the first time you sob
that hard, when the rust of your love reaches your throat,
your father does not look in your direction.  

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