the reason you love science
is really just poetry
because you love the moment
someone stands up suddenly,
their fingers buzzing, their heart
a Morse code message of discovery
more than the discovery itself.
When you left me with a fish bowl
and an otherwise very empty apartment
I would try to recreate the way you
hung up my jacket when we came inside
with the cuffs rolled up and the collar tucked in
(I used to think I could see your energy
radiating from the blue material as you touched it)
but even when I thought I might have finally
got it right, my heart would ache because
yours wasn’t hanging up next to it.
I try to make new discoveries daily now
because I think that you might still be able to hear
my sharp intake of breath charged by new knowledge
like the energy of my discovery
will cross states and walls and cities
and all the girls you’ve loved since me
and all the way I ****** up in the first place
to find you and remind you
of all the poetry
you’ve missed out on by leaving.