Are my conversations an electrifying catalyst?
Buzzing phrases through your brain,
Sizzling your synapses,
Meaning measured in megawatts?
Or do my sentences swirl in a cloud of Radon gas,
Ionizing the blood in your veins,
Setting Geiger counters crackling like a camp fire?
Or is my arrangement of the periodic dictionary
On a more subatomic level,
Weighing protons on the tip of my tongue,
Before shooting them through the Hadron Collider between us,
Watching them shatter into quarks, felt more than seen?
Or do I have to pull everything apart,
Like a supernova forging gold out of its own ashes like cosmic alchemy?
Because for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction.
But I’ve yet to feel the force of yours,
There must be knots in our entanglement.

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Rebecca Adair is a Creative Writing student at Brunel University in west London. She’s been writing stories about robots, aliens, and shapeshifters since she was fifteen, but has only been writing poetry for a year about the strangest creatures of all: people.

Photo credit: Terri Malone