multiverse

it is goldenrod season and
our cosmology is written in

a wild carrot flower nebula,
mullein comets,
constellations of coreopsis.

what laws of light and gravity rule us,
bend our paths like binary stars,
are guarded by sharp-tined teasel piercing the firmament.

but this time last year I was a copper rosebud
wrapped tight around summer’s last
breath,

and you were a golden inflorescence,
soon a supernova of milky seeds, drifting
away on bright blue autumn atmosphere.

now we’re bound to a galactic tide,
floating on fireweed
and trading questions on radio waves:

where are you going?
when will I see you again?

will you remember me?