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Dear Magnitude, I leave the how much
to you. Bereft of equation,
I'd rather logarithms lodged elsewhere-
there is no sensitivity in numbers,
only in effects. In the calm, let us speak
in effects: a ball drops
dragon's mouth-to-frog's mouth,
a pendulum swings on its knife-edge
pivot. I'd say the measurable
captivates more than the measurement
in any accident, but I am merely a mass
suspended. Set my pen
to drum, set my drum recording-
I am the instrument of your intensity
and you my more. If there
be foundation, I have found it
to be oscillating. If there be water,
it is something falling.
Be peak to my trough, be hand
fastened to my throat. Shake me
something fierce and I will be the figure
of what you did.
Cecily Parks is the author of the poetry collections Field Folly Snow (2008) and O'Nights (2015), and editor of The Echoing Green: Poems of Fields, Meadows, and Grasses (2016). She teaches in the MFA Program in Creative Writing at Texas State University.
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