einsteinium

dressed, she looks out of the window
and thinks how this has been preserved,
an instant in the time continuum like
fruit in jell-o, worn into the fabric
of the space-time all around us,

and this is true:
the physicality of our existence leaves a mark,
affectation for affiliation with it, with you -
and does the sun admit when it is done,
when it is free of it's own gravity
how it has been changed by every shifting atom
in the sea of things that it allowed to breathe -

and snap snap, like a photograph with more perspective,
and she wonders: does the moment know as much as she -
can it, indeed, remember what she felt when it became too much
to be -

jell-o, colder - and leftover butterfly eddies
and the dark matter will notice
when it's gone.