Rachel Britton is a writer and translator from New York. When she isn't caring for plants, she works with VIDA Review. She has received a grant from Fulbright and the Icelandic Ministry of Education and Culture, as well as a scholarship from the Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies. Her work can be found in Gandy Dancer.
Also by Rachel Britton:
Masks
Rachel Britton
Galaxy 3C 75 as Dependency
I measured the spectrum and you
would be surprised. We’re more than dark matter,
blue ray and radio pink composite.
Merging, held at distance in the dark, our filaments
spiderweb over the bed; you shudder and
I start to measure my happiness in arcmin.
Though the lens is clear with solution,
I’m looking at you slant. So fast
we orbit one another and spit
colored particles in jets. Multimillion
degrees, you scorch me and I scorch
you back. As hot gas clusters,
interstellar wind is quick, but moves
slow through space, it seems;
I cannot measure entropy on my fingers
anymore. Even horizons meet in black,
you stretch me further
and swing the stars out my eyes
Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
All contents © the author.