Karen Dennison

Poet and artist

Poetry and science 8 – Event Horizon

4 Comments

Event Horizon

Untouched for months, your non-slip ruler
measures empty space. On the cutting mat,
a bone-folder remembers your index finger,
thumb, push of your palm. Dust has fallen unseen

on handmade maquettes, on the polished sheen
of the angle-poise lamp. Its moon of light hovers
over an empty pamphlet, casts a blade and a lip
of shadow from the knot and thread of its stitched spine.

Tracing-paper pages show hairline cracks
in their creases. In-between, the arthritic limbs
of a Photoshopped tree glow like a bone x-ray.
Your desk is flecked with gold paint.

I think of the traces of gold in our bodies, how all the gold
on earth was forged by stars; how you read that its glitter
is caused by the speed of electrons in its orbit,
the relative slowing of their time;

and of the crazy idea you had
that the point of death was like falling into
a black hole’s event horizon, where you could cram
a lifetime of thought into a second.

From The Paper House (Hedgehog Poetry) and first published in Under the Radar Magazine.

Image from NASA website.

4 thoughts on “Poetry and science 8 – Event Horizon

  1. Karen, loving these latest poems! This one gelled with me particularly đŸ™‚ Hope you’re safe and well. Every kindest wish and keep up the great work, Lois

  2. Great poem, Love ” the arthritic limbs
    of a Photoshopped tree glow like a bone x-ray.”

    And what a super, unforgettable “crazy idea” of the last verse! x

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s