by Rae Spencer
In a mathematical sense
Imaginary numbers
Best describe
Difficult measurements
Of physical reality
And a place called “phase space”
Holds all imaginable outcomes
Is it then possible
That some might see
Out of phase?
Into a multidimensional past
Of uncertainty
Where an imaginary number
Divides itself into one
Her ghostly visions
Show her the futures
That might have occurred
In some other time
In some other place
Everything’s possible
But nothing is real
She sees the dead rabbit
Crushed on the road
The one that has darted
From under her tires
And is safe in the ditch
But she had been distracted
So it should have been dead
And there lies the newspaper
She forgot to pick up
Ruined by rain
It’s just like the one
She brought in today
And the news is more frightening
Than anything imaginary
The laundry is done
Folded and neat
Or at least
This would have been so
Except she overslept
She dreamt of being awake
Trying to remember her dreams
Yesterday she knew
That there are three tomorrows
One for each today
But she won’t be confused
Because her time never comes
She knows the difference
Between vision and sight
And every day
She sees all the futures
That never will be
And she knows all the things
That just might have been
All the yellow roads not taken
Are visions she dwells on at night
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Rae Spencer is a writer and veterinarian living in Virginia. Her poems have appeared in print and online journals, and her poetry received Pushcart Prize nominations in 2009 and 2010. She can be found online at www.raespencer.com. |
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