My love, we live here a sphere inside a sphere inside a sphere inside a sphere we call the universe. Love, let me love you the way a planet teaches, dearer and dearer the sun. Let all connection cease but the graveness of our orbit. But let some happiness reach us.
(What else to call heaven but the absence of atmosphere?)
And when the sweetness of that possible world makes this one seem a little too near, my love, let us not grieve what may have been there, or here.
Victoria Le received her poetic education from the University of Michigan and Brown University, where she earned her MFA. She is interested in the ways empiricism and revelation interact with manifested life. Her poems and translations have appeared in publications such as White Whale Review and Transference. She is currently raising a son, a husband, and three cats in Tallahassee, Florida, where she teaches writing to inmates.
For more Victoria Le poems published in Orange Quarterly: