The Science of Parting “Your poems get the science wrong,” she says. “You write about gravity, attraction, bodies coming together. Distance is the way of things: The expansion of the universe is accelerating and galaxies are moving away from each other.” So, I’ll start this time with a metaphor built for vastness: Your leaving is the night’s last brush of moonlight, coating the ocean’s lonely heart in silver. But I’ll end up with something closer: The two of us, at the park early, waiting for the Perseids.
Chemistry Lesson “Read me the names,” she says. “I will tell you the symbols.” Hydrogen, H. Carbon, C. Iron, Fe. Silver, Ag, Neon, Ne. Beryllium, Be. Cobalt, Co. Oxygen, O. Over the rim of a textbook, I watch as she remembers. The white light of a desk lamp bathes her face and her long fingers press the end of a pencil to her lips. I want to ask her to again explain Tuesday’s lecture on covalent bonds. “Keep going,” she says. Nitrogen, N. Phosphorus, Ph. Magnesium, Mg. Chromium, Cr. Nickel, Ni. Gold, Au. Platinum, Pt. Suddenly, she looks at me her blue eyes like strong magnets I become an electron, orbiting. As her arms wrap around me, we both understand: love is the essential element. Together, we take its weight.
Beeper Peddle is a writer and healer living on the East Coast. She lives with her partner and their beloved soul puppy. Beeper writes about sorrows, lies, and deep loves. When you read her work, you will dip down into her heart and end up in all manner of body parts. Should you find yourself reflected in these words, it is merely coincidence; however, it does not surprise her you share the same heart. Find her at bethpeddle.com and @beeperpeddle on Twitter and Instagram
Andrew Analore lives and writes in Madison, Wisconsin. His poetry has appeared in Stolen Island Review, Technology of the Sun, Sheila-Na-Gig, The Olivetree Review and South 85 Journal. In 2020, he won the Bluegrass Writers Studio’s Emerging Writer Award for Poetry. He is the poetry editor for the 12th issue of Jelly Bucket.