Stretch

In the final 40 minutes of The Theory of Everything, the movie about Steven Hawking’s life and achievements, I paused it 7 times in moments of inspiration to write 7 poems. I’ve decided not to edit any of these (spelling errors amok). As a relevant aside, in my high school philosophy class, I asserted that the concept of choice was nothing more than an illusion; 15 years later (a couple years ago) when I studied Hawking’s principle on black hole radiation and the mutability of the universe, it changed my mind. This is poem 1:

I am a virus
a swath of bacteria
a genetic mess
aware in hysteria.

I’m a slug reaching for awareness
shedding the shells and
cracks in my neck

I’m the Ace of Spades
The King of hearts
a diamond for my queen
every card in the deck.

I’m wobbly
I’m weary
and the mirror looks right back.

Chance in opportunity
Luck homeward bound
Imperfect operation
ball of rubberbands

when I reach into impossible
I achieve a new Stretch.
and when its possible
I start a new stretch.

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