Forever one thing facing another as I am facing each thing on
my desk. That is the way it seems to be. Things in communion
with each other. Whenever I reach for pens, the lamp, a paper clip,
dictionary, the chipped coffee cup, there is always a conversation between
us of varying intensity, a warble of attitude that occurs within the Planck
realm, that is, within the smallest interval of space and time. Each
little song of radar is accordioned onto a lenth of 10-33
centimeters. Anything smaller would not be meaning- ful. Such
chitchat lasts 10-43 seconds, which is the time it takes light
to travel the Planck length. Needless to say, this genre of conversation
is not audible but does have quantum effects. It is responsible for
the tiny cactus that sprouts on particular memories and ideas. It
sometimes results in poetry, blatant and embarrassing declarations of love,
as well as spiritual competence. It is why some people talk to burning
bushes. Reaching for the pen, a quip passes between us. The
lamp, a colloquy. With the dictionary, there is always a tête-à-tête.
Twisting the paper clip, one of us begins to tattle, and a slurp from the
chipped coffee cup inevitably results in a bon mot. But when
I pick up this nearly finished poem there is only an in-your- face silence,
the quicksilver infinitely mirrored kind that arrives just before the blind
date. Will there be an awkward kiss? Or simply galaxies of
promise while saying goodnight.
Copyright 2001, Molly McGee
Molly McGee works as a medical physicist at the Univeristy of Washington and has published haiku over the years in Modern Haiku, etc. She has also composed libretti for a one-act opera and choral works performed in the US and Europe.