To Have and to Hold
Jan 1 2016


Dark matter
holds  the universe in place.
How odd that physicists
who measure fractions with such exactitude
would so blithely wave their hands,
conjuring matter
to balance the equation. 
As if the universe would fly apart
if they hadn’t thought of it,
thinning out to absolute zero
utterly black.

Like the dark ages, dark arts, dark continent
we gloss over ignorance
by simply naming it, 
seize control
of the feared unknown
in a cosmic bluff.

So I wonder
about the dark matter in relationships.
I imagine a kind of glue
that hardens with age.
But can also crumble,
the way all matter deteriorates.
How to explain the couple
who baffle their friends;
“what could they possibly see in each other?”
everyone says.
And how the perfect match stunned us all
by breaking up.

Perhaps a ballerina, or a fireman.
But you never thought you’d grow up to be
all alone.
Or that they could be together
only so long,
because his time eventually comes
and she still ends up 
dying by herself.

The dark energy
that drives them apart
when even love is strong.
Leaving a widow
detached from her anchorage
and aimlessly adrift.
No longer had.
No longer held.



I may have written a poem about dark matter before. I’m not sure. But I read the expression again today, and thought it rich with metaphorical possibility I couldn’t resist playing with. As well, I like the ominous connotation of “dark”:  its unkowability, its sinister undertone. 

And since, in cosmology, dark matter is  balanced by dark energy, there is even more with which to play. 

From the start, I fully intended to somehow turn this toward relationship; but -- as usual -- had no idea what direction or end this would take. I hope it works.