The Poetry of Science
Can New Be Comfortable?
Can new bring comfort?
Asking for a friend
who teaches science, and doesn’t
But really. These are legit questions
in pursuit of true answers
Newly wrenched to be vocal appropriate
What words beget poetry?
In between which space or line does prose
slip from precipice and fall into verse?
When I Goggle the question I only get cliff
notes over William Shakespeare.
Can comfort be gleaned from new?
I laid my hand atop yours, once
shared tears, as I slid you a
note penned in your father’s hand
Written at a desk mere weeks before
“Do you believe in ghosts?” Question returned.
In answer, "Not sure. Perhaps angels."
Then, daughter, share the story of
a man who stopped to help for you
resembled his own.
I’ve always wanted to capture that moment
for you, pin it,
preserve it with painstaking precaution,
Exactly when his finger tapped your nose
words spoke, "like my very own, grown."
I want to glass encapsulate that moment for the world to wonder
at the beauty of serendipity.
But I can’t, for crude words
of poetry do no justice.
Dear daughter, though not my own,
I think of you often.
Can comfort exist
when new begins again?
Do not respond in poetry.
I’m asking for a friend.