Onion skins (for Irena)
we were all once stars, matter layered inside stars,
the projected dust of some super nova
touched by a butterfly’s wing.
each dust shell is the edge of star mass projected
by helium flash once every fifteen hundred years.
if these are the final drawn out gasps of a dying star
then did you shed shells of yourself
in those first motions of death?
as i peel back each familiar skin
i come closer to the fundamental you
and the emergent possibilities of our eternal symmetry.
i look to your discarded shell and understand
that you leave me with more
than just these layers of memory.
walking alone on towradgi beach
i see waves that are water slices
shaved in succession
by the continental shelf,
the next one forming over as the spent one recedes
and I know that our past motion is your energy
stored inside of me.