Dancing ‘neath the stars so bright

To music that we call “The Western Swing.”

An upright bass sends out the pulse

Jazz guitars the rhythmic pace

And drums

From someone hip and thin

Like a young jimmy benjamin 

All these put the background down

Like a watercolor wash on an opaque sky 

Then an angled edge of a quill dipped in dark ink

The fiddle begins to draw

Indigo notes

Deep scratches in my record

The needle skips

And it doesn’t even matter

Because a cosmic sound I hear

And I’m back there

Dancing under a crescent moon

Under the clusters of heavy uranium 

While nebulae bloom

And yolks intact

Begin to form individual sacs

Of hemangioblasts

A sonogram 

And here I am with you

-jenn