We who are luminous,
are radiant,
are 90% light,
who know a fiery fusion
that makes stars and suns,
whose flesh is compressed of
dancing atoms,
we chart an inner astronomy
our nucleus, our energy,
without burning our eyes,
we see.
There is a crust of seasons that we wear.
Seeds sleep along the bones,
erupt, and bloom
in heats and darks
responsive to our moon.
Flames loop and leap the arteries,
there is a core of ember in the womb —
beyond our brightness
our creation, cells,
connect in constellations of our own.
'