What Matters

Dark matter exists in outer space,
a mass so deeply compacted it can’t be seen
by calculations that seem obscene.  

There is, as well, “inner space”
we say is “here inside,”
and is also present in time,
contained in space
that we think of as strictly “outside.”

Inner space is easily reached,
but cannot be bargained or sold,
or, perhaps, “controlled,”
so is dismissed.

Matter rests in its own inertia,
so lies outside
that certain nonexistent space
where writers and readers of poems

may share and respond to a poem,
written centuries apart
in whatever corner of the world

where the poet dwelt
in that elusive private time
that exists inside.