Unknown – a poem by Cortney Collins


Your original wound is not what you think it is.

You’ve been carrying the wrong burden
although you’ve grown fond of what you carry.

What’s tender and aching
is in the nucleus of the universe,
a place stolen and sought out
at the same time.

The schism happened.

No one can say when, only that it did
and somewhere
at the bottom of that fault line
what you lost is healed every moment,
every gap of a second in the negative space
between words and light.

The deepest wound is the one
that was carried for you
on the shoulders of a continuum
from the condensed hydrogen of the Sun
to the soil underneath Jerusalem.



Cortney Collins is a poet whose work has been published by South Broadway Ghost Society and 24hr Neon Mag. She has poems forthcoming in the Devil’s Party Press anthology, What Sort of F@*#ery is This? She lives on the Eastern Plains of Colorado with her cat, Pablo.


Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s