Physics [poem] by David Worrell

After Crossing Over
oil on canvas

by Catherine Kuzma

April green tidal marsh, a dusky glimpse
out the window—a blue Oldsmobile
crossing the Commodore Barry Bridge.
A body speeding through space remains

on the straight if no one is watching but
once observed, will swerve though wholly
untouched by material stuff—pushed
from its self-willed storyline, redirected

simply from having been measured.
The good path begun imperceptibly turns;
the bad we do ricochets from benign
beginnings. Off to the east, the foamy Atlantic

is sixty miles distant. The human eye can see
that far, but the world curves away and gazing out
from the top of the bridge, all we can see
is the far brown edge of the South Jersey flatlands.

 

Image of 1930s Switchboard Operator

Image by Alan Levine

David Worrell’s first chapbook, titled “We Who Were Bound,” was published in August 2012. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in U.S. 1 Worksheets, Mad Poets Review, Exit 13, Wild River Review, Fox Chase Review, Adanna, Symbiosis, Edison Literary Review, Canary, Stillwater Review and The Casa de Cinco Hermanas Journal. He has performed his music-backed poems at Chris’ Jazz Café in Philadelphia and The Cornelia Street Café in New York. He began writing poetry toward the end of his 30-plus year law career. He has taught writing at area community colleges and, for the past six years, has taught business law to undergraduates at Drexel University’s LeBow College of Business. He hopes to impart to his students how law, like literature, fosters human interconnection and a better world.