Quantum interaction

I sit with thoughts
afraid to name it,

afraid the moment I
name it, I kill it.

An infinitesimal portion of
this universe, you and I.

Both dead and living
before being brought to light,

our destiny tied
to the behavior of waves.

Falling in love is
rarely  a binary event.

This is what I heard: surviving,
all we remember is being alive.

You are standing in a field looking at the stars

I have now renamed
the world around me
after you:
the alarm clock,
the toothbrush,
the stars in the sky at 5:30 a.m.
when I leave for work,
the clouds
(when they are there),
the sunrise,
the empty seat next to mine
on the bus,
the subway stations,
the trains,
every block I have to
walk back from work,
the trees I rush past,
the traffic lights, 
my keys,
the shower,
my own reflection
in the mirror,
the pillows,
the bedroom walls.

Twelve fifty-nine and sixty seconds

Let's not ruin it
with words.

You look me in the eyes,
It's nothing but a second, it won't hurt.

I'll step inside you for that second,
your secret world won't fall apart,

I won't move a thing,
I promise.

But if eventually your eyes
don't leave mine,

or I fall asleep
inside your rib cage,

how bad can it be
to lose control over ourselves

for one leap second?



(The Paris Observatory announced last week that a leap second will be added to the year 2015, on June the 30th. Read about it here)

Five in ten thousand

Rigil Kentuarus 

Five years of distance,

five years of post office mistakes,

five years of undelivered affection.

Come the final hours

to the end of the world,

I'll wish we could sit outside and read

the universe on each other's palms

as we used to when we were young.

Tsih

I followed the spark in your eyes

and spiral danced around you like a beetle

before losing them for the dark night.

We learned each other's pitch

by watching words

come to light in the blackness

and used our hands to protect them

as if they were fireflies.

El Nath

A list of ways in which love is concrete:

in paper folded  boats,

in balloon elephants,

in black tea when I'm sick,

in a tangible invented world,

in the books we read,

in the waiting for Godot,

in Magritte.

Girtab

No one else finds me awake

after the 2 a.m. train,

I am not there for anyone else.

 I'm carried into my dreams

 by a whistle,

gradually fading in the separation,

sure to be soon lost in the distance
when you don't come.

Mirfak

You trigger me to

stare at my own spirit.

You wrap me 

in different strengths.

I show you the roof of my mouth

and am posed with your vast rib cage -

who would have thought 

of  a better hiding place?

(Shared with the Imaginary Garden)

Eta Aquarids

On the peak of Eta Aquarids,

the entire universe skipping bed

in exchange for a shooting star

(except for me),

he wakes me up at two,

because he can't see East

from any of his windows

and maybe I could lend him

one of my wishes.

At two in the morning

on the peak of Eta Aquarids

we haven't seen each other in ages.

I tell him about my encounter

with Comet Halley in 1986

and how I finally understand
some things are not meant to stay. 

He continues not loving me,

but that's no longer on my list.

Pauli exclusion principle

I know for a fact, much before
Physics class in Junior High,
our neighbor's oldest son Marcus's tongue
uncomfortably chasing mine,
that two bodies cannot occupy
 the same space in time.

But there's nearness,
there's warmth.
There's this vacant spot
the closest from my chest,
right around my arms -
I am saving it for you.


(Started for Susan's Mid-week Motif on Science over at The Poets United. Completed for Fireblossom's Flash Fiction 55 mini-challenge over at the Imaginary Garden)

Twenty-five

The night before your birthday,
when the last quarter moon lights up in the sky,
I'll be standing outside in the dark on my tiptoes trying to
glue all of my wishes for you onto Thatcher's shooting stars.

That there are as many ways as there are hours,
that you're dear to my heart even lacking superpowers,
that you won't ever have to hide your tears,
that I will love you for many years.

That I'd let you win in musical chairs,

that I will still be there when no else cares,

that you are beautiful with all the scars,

that I will always hold you fondly in my arms -

I am forever wishing you the very best.

(Lyrids meteor shower peaks on Earth Day this year. The morning after, one of my favorite people on Earth celebrates his twenty-fifth birthday. This is just a silly something from my heart to his. I will love you for many years, you annoying little thing.)

Buried lakes

Water is discovered in Enceladus
at the same time my eyes run dry.

Dramatic plumes force their way out
through cracks in an icy crust

sitting over a sea of liquid water
at the moon's South pole

while tears are washed
down the open fractures of my orbits.

(Written for the SwampScribes prompt for NaPoWriMo Day 6)

(Saturn's Enceladus moon hides 'great lake' of water)

The liar paradox

Maybe that's because

you still visit my mind
when I am alone.

I think of how often
I would pass up my plans
to rest a song in your arms.

No one, no stranger 
would take notice of my 
absolute sense of emptiness.

“I'm very scared, Buster. Yes, at last. Because it could go on forever. Not knowing what's yours until you've thrown it away.” 

Truman Capote, Breakfast at Tiffany's

-----

(Written for Margaret Bednar's Play it again challenge on The Imaginary Garden. My pick was #2 Kerry's challenge to write a poem inspired by a quote from Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's. The title is a reference to the line 'this sentence is false' in Gödel's first incompleteness theorem.)

Aries and Gemini

The airless days of March
produce the clearest nights.

I know a girl who traced a map
going from Hamal to Pollux,

so her favorite boy on Earth could
always find his way back to her heart.

Tonight
somewhere,

a star is missing
no one will notice.

It's impossible to tell
when it was last spotted.

All this light in the city,
a man can easily lose the sky.

We can't go back

Of being young
and sleepy.

Of writing my safe word
on your left arm.

Of the promise
we made under the
avocado tree
in the backyard.

Of your light,
smiling face
when in
spit shake
we didn't let go
of each other's
hand.

Of spending
that night awake
watching the stars.

The path we drew
by connecting supergiants
now severed
by  a supernova 
in the Cigar Galaxy.

Our bridge burned down.
We can't go back.

(Read about the closest supernova in 27 years here)

Novikov Principle

There must be a trick
to prevent your bones from being smashed,
your heart from being dissolved,
when going through a wormhole.

It's all of a sudden,
I'm whole again.
All of a sudden,
back to the last time
we saw each other.

Because I know now you won't say goodbye,
I know  now you'll make yourself unreachable,
I know now you'll always come into town
on a tight schedule for the next five months
(or years),

I see you.
For the last time.

There must be a trick.
I haven't been taught it.

(Shared with Poets United)