The Season of Science

by M.E. Silverman
Wild Poetry Forum
Honorable Mention, March 2008
Judged by Fleda Brown

i. How to Explain What It is All About

Bees bothered by absence,
for pollen to fill their days,
fields full of van Gogh,
golden glows and sun fire
of the katsura, the quick spread
of spice over lawns, wild
like the William Tell Overture–

wait. Hear me out: this is suppose to be
about blooms and the season of amore.

More what?
No, I meant–
here, let me try to explain.

But she is dressing,
and it is difficult to express
postulates and proposals
to pearls and powders,
to a bra and blouse, to the berry pit
of her tongue.

Look: the cold of night shadows
the countryside, bees far from the hive
will cease their search–

what? Listen. I didn’t mention drones, dear.
No, I didn’t know they only had one purpose.
I think we’re getting off track here–
no one knows why the life expectancy of drones
is 90 days. Oh,
that’s rhetorical.

Alright, forget the fucking bees! Let me try again:
a field with interaction has a magnetic moment–
that’s the science of electrons.
From a distance, an entity feels the force of another–
that’s the science for particles.
These moments do not need
to be temporary; we can be more
than a flyleaf on a book of nameless poems,
more than motel meetings and phone calls
that sound like a lute.
Do you understand? The season of science
is like everything that moves,
and sooner or later, will change,
changes, changed.

ii. Ode to Jasmine

The horizon’s hem
retreats, and a little light splits
between the curtains.
The night jasmines the room.

Between the double beds,
I left a bottle of cheap Chilean Merlot,
thick bread sticks still in the box, cold,
and an unopened gift in blue wrap.

The radio crackles between stations,
half-plays static and the heavy notes
of Schubert, slow and haunting–
you heard it if you know such seasons.

I lean in to swing shut the door and pause
to remind me of this ode
and the comma I changed
to a perfect period.

  • August 2018 Winners

    • First Place

      The World Is Moist in the Morning
      by Terry Ofner
      The Waters

      Second Place

      My Epitaph
      by Guy Kettelhack
      Wild Poetry Forum

      Third Place

      I kissed a tree
      by Alison Armstrong-Webber
      The Waters

  • July 2018 Winners

    • First Place

      The First Time I Drank With My Father
      by Ken Ashworth
      The Waters

      Second Place

      My Bicycle
      by Andrew Dufresne
      Wild Poetry Forum

      Third Place

      J. Alfred Prufrock Searches for Mrs. Right
      by Laurie Byro