Knitting, Math and Awe.
Connecting until I unplug.
I’m a knitter.
With yarn,
And three needles long.
I have a friend.
Her name is Sylvia.
She spins yarn.
Fibre into thread.
I’m making a scarf.
The colours change.
Deep cool blues,
And vibrant violet purples.
400 - 475 nm.
I am a physicist.
I know that photons travel around me.
At the speed of light.
Until absorbed by an atom.
I have a friend named Bernard.
He’s a quadrapelgic,
But there’s so much more to know.
We talk,
Math, philosophy,
And about the end.
I transform 1D into 3D
Weaving together,
Something I believe,
And daydreaming all day long.
About the Creator
Elizabeth Camilleri
Sydney based scientist who dreams of being a writer, and much more.
Multiple personalities in a multiverse. Cool. Cool, cool, cool.
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More stories from Elizabeth Camilleri and writers in Poets and other communities.
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
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