Invention

By Christina Poulin

Press your forearms against the fire escape, swallow the wind, and dream of Anna, who watched flames devour tenements and vowed never to lose another.

Smooth creases from a crumpled sleeve and remember Sarah, unafraid to iron out the faults she saw in “women’s work.

Send a text, search a term and think of Hedy, who torpedoed Nazis with flying frequencies and wove the invisible strings that tie our world together.

Drag the knots from your tangled locks (thank you, Lyda). Spin the planet with your fingertips (thank you, Ellen). Raid the fridge on a summer’s day (thank you, Florence). Blot mistakes from crooked lines of ink (thank you, Bette).

Check the screen before unlocking and think of Marie, who did what the police wouldn’t to keep her family safe.

Pass a hospital and remember Ann, who found life where no one thought to look and wielded secret cells to combat cancer’s spread.

And on cloudless nights when constellations bloom, find Yvonne there, Yvonne who yearned to brush the sky and found a way, who launched us to float among the stars.