Particle
Jessica Reed
Regarded by physicists as a material point,
nearly hypothetical, real as an egg,
composed of matter. So little spatial
extent: a place (usually), a thing (barely).
I list the problem’s knowns
and unknowns; write velocity, position, the time
elapsed. A particle’s motion is described.
Should I embroider an address?
A point whose position changes
in space. Why crumble soil
between your fingers? Moving
is a function of time. This pointed
fingertip.
Imagine a tiny dot
as a ship in the water, in black space
and sailing west to east, always
west to east. One
cannot chart the motion
of a body through absolute
space. Instead we define
the positions of bodies
with respect to one another:
a lover’s body, silly and holy
at once. You there and I here
and both here a contradiction.
“I’m either very small,” he said,
“or I’m nowhere at all.” Atoms,
thousands of times smaller
than the smallest
light waves our eyes
can see—everything
~~~~~
Jessica Reed’s work has appeared or is forthcoming in North American Review; Bellingham Review; Conjunctions; Tinderbox Poetry Journal; Spiral Orb; Kudzu House Quarterly; The Fourth River; and Isotope: A Journal of Literary Nature and Science Writing. She has an MFA in poetry and a BS in physics, and lives in Indiana with her husband and seven buff chickens.