The big bang
or God
should have created
equal amounts of
poetry and prose
but today
bookstores
the few that remain
and libraries
the few that are open
are mostly prose
Poetry is
the antimatter
of our universe
rare
elusive
which is funny
because it wants
so desperately
to be found
It should be
as common
as hydrogen
but it’s not
Perhaps it’s fear
the fear that
prose and poetry
will annihilate each other
if they come into contact
with each other
We have to keep
poetry separate
or we’ll destroy ourselves
shout the prosaic
Maybe it’s the poets
that are antiparticles
simultaneously
matter and antimatter
some miracle of science
or art
that keeps them
from exploding
Putting words onto a page
the merest of matter
microns of ink
on millimeters of paper
crafted out of
the poet’s
antiparticle
soul
Like a poetry reading
sound waves
vibrating air molecules
between the poet
and the listener
and then they’re gone
the vibrations ceasing
as if they were never there
We’re left
wondering
how have we changed
In the particle physics
of poetry
there are still
mysteries
/ / /
This poem was written in response to the matter/anti-matter prompts at Poetic Asides.
LOVE this, my friend. Well done!
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Thank you.
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