Today's poem is The problem with talking about physics by Lulu Liu. It is read by Julia Bouwsma.
The problem with talking about physics
Aspens doing something in the wind.
— Robert Haas
Then, when finally we were
no longer hungry, talk
turned to the end of the Universe.
The kitchen light hummed. Your hand
turned, lifting
and placing things on the table, and we
felt as near to oblivion
as a pile of kindling. You
wanted to know how it will end,
all this, so we huddled around
the three topological
infinities, and I struck
the match.
Light and murmur, time
like the head of a cauliflower,
maybe. You laughed. You were enchanted,
but I felt as ashamed of your
wide eyes as
if I had told you a lie.
Badly, I wanted to feed you wonder
in that tiny pill.
To say even the word, infinite,
it's too easy—
and too provocative, and
you were enchanted, but I felt
as dull as cloth: as if I had
picked up your oranges from the bowl
and juggled them — ta-da —
I'm sorry. There is real
wonder. And sometimes I do
feel that wonder, too. Sometimes
I look into that dark hole
sky and I know that your God
is my infinite. But, no, I can't
tell you more. I'm sorry, I don't
know what any of it means.