Poem Published in River Oak Review

What Einstein Saw Before Typing Out His Theory of Relativity
1896, Journal Entry titled, Of X and Y on a city tram:


I see her step from platform, and lift with his hand
into the moving box--the dress a fancy thing
(...of a fabric I may have felt only once before),
the purse a clasped silk liver. On board, they stall
for a moment, then sidle into the car seats
split by the walking aisle (...she charmed
by the passing streetlamps, he hushing wrinkles
from his shirt cuffs), and they don't speak
to one another for the next six blocks.
Great webs of sunlight fan low across his waist.
There is no scuff of time passing, until I notice him
twitch and wake to where they are, and rather than
nudge her, he plucks a timepiece
from his vest and catches the glare. The flash
lures her back--she turns as if leaving a daydream--
and he replaces the token like a secret.
This day is a feeding spoon (...his watch chain
a snapped violin string, her hairclip a brassy pinwheel).