Quantum [poem] by Anne Harding Woodworth

The smallest book
among my miniatures
is an unreadable
New Testament.
224 pages,
1” by 1½”,
and its 3rd dimension—
the spine—
is 3/8 of an inch.
Are there other dimensions?
When I hold the book
I measure that trinity.
Any more than three
would be the stuff
of flash fiction,
like the New Testament itself,
Jesus stories
that contradict each other
and hide in the microcosm
of their settings, lurking
behind people looking
for the First Particle,
which they say
is so minuscule
it will never be seen
by the naked eye.
When an eye is clothed
there’s only blind faith
in what is not there.


Image of 1930s Switchboard Operator

[Refer: This poem resonates with Thomas Lynch’s poem in this issue, “Par Rum Pum Pum Pum.”]

Image by Biking Nikon SFO via Flickr Creative Commons

Anne Harding Woodworth is the author of four books of poetry and two chapbooks, and one of each is slated to appear in early 2014. Her work is widely published in print in the U.S. and abroad, as well as at several literary journals on line. She divides her time between a home in the mountains of Western North Carolina and in Washington, D.C., where she is a member of the Folger Shakespeare Library. Rea more at http://www.writer.org/annewoodworth.

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