poem

 Rutherford

We’re like electrons—

Clouds of probability

Until improbably seen

Somehow we collide—

Call it love, call it connection

Then it’s very Rutherfordian

Discrete little balls of energy

Scything around the same sun

In precisely defined orbits

As long as you 

Don't veer too far

From me and I don’t hide 

I’ll remain myself—

Distinct mind, a charged body 

Woven into your strobing sphere

But the second you look away—

The lights go out 

I’m gone 

12/29/22