who can afford tomorrow

the prettiest girl I know has
cellulite that backs her thighs
like a milky way
we have reached the age where
all of our mothers have died
or are dying
and none of our hands
are big enough to catch
the sands of time
and stop
if we live long enough
we will see the northern lights
but who can afford Alaska
or Iceland
or tomorrow
and everything is disaster
bad stars
our own shadows land in our own way
when supernovas die to light the path
this is the way we become
our own elders
ancestors of our own unearthing
a history of self-scarred thighs
big hands reading palm lines
and tea tales and
grasping at straws
who can afford
light lingers in the craters on
my hollow cheekbones
like a moon rock
I am invincible for today
who can afford tomorrow