I look beneath my skin and see
the outline I will leave when I leave 
the world behind – I see the carbon
footprint that comes of being made 
of what forms at the heart of stars
and electrified by the mystery. 
Is it that cosmic scarring 
and gunpowder wonder 
that you are silenced by
when your breath hitches 
and you swiftly kiss me?

By Heidi Turner