A new poem by Larissa Andrusyshyn

In Which Planck’s Constant Informs the Brokenhearted

I hear about a breakup so bad the guy hires a plane
to tow a banner with the physics equation for Planck’s constant.

In the city of Denver where he lives
the chess players on 16th Street will look up,
maybe she will too.

The spray painted stencil flowers, the poems inked
onto subway walls, we’re the same, graffiti artists and poets
seeking the eye of some passing pedestrian.

For him there is comfort in the numbers
that express the fabric of light as he poses for minimum wage
in the University art department.
If a photon can be measured, a value can be assigned to anything.

He tows his backpack across campus, loves the weight of it
which is a constant.
In quantum theory this is expressed by h.

Even to the muscle fibers that strain to be still and hold,
until its time for another pose.
This reminds him of the delicate structure of the universe.
The difference between particle and wave.

Every breakup is a mess of equations,
of abstract and precise numbers, divisions
and remainders. You’ll need to hire a plane, a chessboard
a can of paint to make them balance.