Quantum Mechanics

Grace Q. Song

The world possesses me

with its tender, half-

beast face. In the last

hour of the eclipse,

the window opens

without resistance.

My lover enters

the door like a painting.

And my life returns

like a rippling sheet

of water. The lines

of the future surging,

carrying us farther

into the dark. It is

impossible to determine

the limits of money

and physics. The sky

stays distant, cruel,

primordial. The moon

is a pale, crescent dimple

we can’t see clearly,

not without turning

our eyes away. The amount

of happiness I have

I have allowed

myself to accept.

Now that I can

never believe

in the persistence

of form and light

you must leave me

again and again.