The center of anything has work to do. Bearing, spinning, taking things in, sending them out again. Pupil and iris. Axle and hub. The dense, dark center of our gathered stars, swathed in what light it hasn’t swallowed, dragging bright dust in arced scarves. Aster to aster, disk to disk. The way a word begets a world. Say inflorescence. Say one bent petal rests on the rim. A tear. An inflection. Say the mind travels there, a foot explores the unexpected curve.
This poem first appeared in The Inflectionist Review and Double Take, an art exhibit catalogue.
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Lisa Rosenberg is the author of A Different Physics, winner of the 2024 American Legacy Book Award for Poetry. A former space program engineer trained as a physicist, her writing spans poetry, multidisciplinary essays, and satire. Her work has been recognized by a Djerassi Leonardo Residency, Wallace Stegner Fellowship, and MOSAIC America Fellowship. She served as Poet Laureate of San Mateo County, California, and is a frequent speaker on the confluence of arts and sciences.
