March 15, 2018In Time
Love in the time of Hawking
is loud, it waits for no one, it travels from
one metro station to the other hoping
to learn something about this universe along the way,
if we reverse this, love becomes silent
and forgets that black holes exist, if we
reverse this: love is present: that’s all one can ask for
from the universe anyway, if we reverse this—
love begins at the death of someone that was loved, so
it never loses power over life, on Earth, I guess, is
there any else? I’m not a child just because I ask if the singularity
contains meaning, I’m not a child just because I ask
where love begins and ends, and lives and dies, and remembers
and forgets, and writes and writes: names before the metro
arrives: least—the universe is listening.
from Poets Respond