Emily Pérez

 

Epithalamium on a Theory of Gravity

for David and Lorena

 

The apple will fall to the Earth.

 

You may wake

to the cry of a child

in the night,

testing gravity, the pull

of one creature on another.

 

You may wake

to find your body

expanding, a solar system—

organs, ventricles, ribosomes,

intercostal constellations

orbit a bright, beating sun.

 

In the beginning,

heavy elements released by stars

became the planets,

became the body.

 

In the beginning

the adjective gravis meant heavy.

And gravitas: seriousness, dignity.

 

You may wake

to the heat of fusion,

your face toward the face

of a luminous other, two bodies,

inextricable binaries.

 

The Earth will fall to the apple.

 

Look out the window,

it’s not the moon

pulling the tide

of this sea change.

It’s not the moon

filling the room with light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emily Pérez grew up in Weslaco, Texas, home of the ruby-red grapefruit. She is an MFA candidate at the University of Houston and a poetry editor at Gulf Coast. Her poetry has appeared in the Kennesaw Review and Touchstone, and she teaches creative writing with Writers-In-the-Schools.