Observable Universe

Credit: izqrdo, some rights reserved

for Lisa

She admits to me that debate exists
over what exactly she found this morning
in Arecibo, whether the wispy white blemish
that sprawled across her monitor is simple:
a cluster of plasma, unclassified space

or something greater. Her voice is light
and airy, full of wanderlust and tension.
I can hear her switch her weight, the phone
brushing against her cheek. It has only been
three nights since I left her standing

at the airport gates. Sitting on our front porch,
I burn a cigarette and watch the stray cats 
duck into alleys. The streetlamps block all hope
of stars. I stare skyward and blow smoke spirals
into the night, uncurling like so many galaxies.