by Tinamarie Cox
The world spins in circles around a golden sun,
a singular brilliance in the skies catching all eyes, and
remains unaffected by the insignificant force I create.
But you orbit me,
like I am the star that provides you with direction,
like I am the core that provides you with gravity.
I don’t understand the pull I have on you because
I never asked you to fall into my field or stay.
I couldn’t ask you
to look past what the rest of the world is caught in and
focus on something as small and insignificant as me.
I don’t understand what you see with me, because
I never asked what it is about my body that attracts you.
I couldn’t ask you
to look for reasons to linger with me, but you did, and
somehow we seem to shine brighter than that golden sun
entrancing everyone else in the galaxy.
We spin with each other in a dance that’s only ours
among the other stars through the darkness surrounding us all.
Tinamarie Cox lives in Arizona with her husband, two children, and a one-eyed cat. Her written and visual work has appeared in numerous publications under various genres. She is also the author of a poetry chapbook, Self-Destruction in Small Doses (Bottlecap Press, 2023). You can explore all her work at tinamariethinkstoomuch.weebly.com.
