Relativity / Sarah Howe

When we wake up brushed by
panic in the dark
our pupils grope for the shape
of things we know.

Photons loosed from slits like
greyhounds at the track
reveal light’s doubleness in
their cast shadows

That stripe a dimmed lab’s wall
—particles no more—
and with a wave bid all
certainties goodbye.

For what’s sure
in a universe
that dopplers away
Like a siren’s midnight cry?

They say a flash seen
From on and off a hurtling train
will explain why time dilates
like a perfect afternoon;

Predicts black holes
where parallel lines will meet,
whose stark horizon even starlight,
bent in its tracks, can’t resist.

If we can think this far,
might not our eyes
adjust to the dark?

(Rest in Peace Stephen Hawking)