Samantha Fain
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Samantha Fain is an MFA candidate at Bowling Green State University. Her first chapbook, “Coughing Up Planets,” debuted with Vegetarian Alcoholic Press this March, and her microchap “sad horse music” debuts with The Daily Drunk this May. Her work has appeared in The Indianapolis Review, SWWIM, 8 Poems, and others. She tweets at @smnthfn.
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schrödinger's poetica
schrödinger writes to einstein in his letters:
i am so lonely looking at atoms.
no answer. moths hit lamps
in schrödinger’s house
& die on impact,
his papers scattered with wings,
the scrawled words toppling
over, waiting for birth.
a poem lives when--
***
on my bad days, i exist
in double-states—awestruck
by my wreckage. i live
radioactively. always the same outcome:
i wait for you to write to me.
the moths pile up so
schrödinger places them in cups
& studies their limpness,
conjectures how to live again,
in the right conditions--
a poem exists
as several selves,
the memory, the truth,
all else--
***
imagine, if you will, a becoming,
einstein—can we be simultaneous,
both one and another?
no answer. nebulous & postal--
the letters do not exist in transfer.
a ridiculous case: pen a poem
in a steel chamber & imagine
the stability & decay.
how many lives have we superpositioned
on paper. how many times
can we reimagine boxes.
cardboard. metal. still
trappings--
***
einstein writes back:
one cannot get around the assumption of reality,
if only one is honest.[i]
i think you are in love with possibility,
the chance of being blown to bits.
stop writing me. study it.
schrödinger says why not both?
& if the poem lives--
[i] Words from one of Einstein’s letters to Schrödinger.
i am so lonely looking at atoms.
no answer. moths hit lamps
in schrödinger’s house
& die on impact,
his papers scattered with wings,
the scrawled words toppling
over, waiting for birth.
a poem lives when--
***
on my bad days, i exist
in double-states—awestruck
by my wreckage. i live
radioactively. always the same outcome:
i wait for you to write to me.
the moths pile up so
schrödinger places them in cups
& studies their limpness,
conjectures how to live again,
in the right conditions--
a poem exists
as several selves,
the memory, the truth,
all else--
***
imagine, if you will, a becoming,
einstein—can we be simultaneous,
both one and another?
no answer. nebulous & postal--
the letters do not exist in transfer.
a ridiculous case: pen a poem
in a steel chamber & imagine
the stability & decay.
how many lives have we superpositioned
on paper. how many times
can we reimagine boxes.
cardboard. metal. still
trappings--
***
einstein writes back:
one cannot get around the assumption of reality,
if only one is honest.[i]
i think you are in love with possibility,
the chance of being blown to bits.
stop writing me. study it.
schrödinger says why not both?
& if the poem lives--
[i] Words from one of Einstein’s letters to Schrödinger.
Commentary
Samantha on “schrödinger's poetica”:
I’ve been writing some strange ars poeticas recently, trying to speak to poetry through the lenses of weird things, like celebrities or news articles. This is the third poem in the series, grounded in the idea of distance and betweenness—this idea of simultaneity, being and not-being. I’ll admit that I’m not a scientist, I haven’t studied Schrödinger's cat in depth—and I’m not even sure I fully understand it—but it’s been on my mind lately as we deal with isolation in the pandemic. There’s a certain loneliness to the paradox, and there seemed to be a similar distance between Schrödinger and Einstein’s work.
Writing poetry has been one of the things that’s helped me cope with the pandemic, but this poem investigates that need and asks if poetry can bridge the gap from now to the uncertain future, from total separation to overwhelming touch.
Assistant Editor Sofia Fey on “schrödinger's poetica”:
When I first read the second line I am so lonely looking at atoms, I had to take a second away from the poem to spiral internally to the place that line had touched & to reexamine my relationship with the world. Through literal scientific examination, we are exposed to a side of Schrödinger I dare say most of us have not been exposed to: their loneliness, their humanity, and the weather in their heart. on my bad days, i exist / in double-states—awestruck / by my wreckage. I had never thought to consider more than the duality of the half-alive-half-dead cat of Schrödinger’s studies– to consider the ways Schrödinger themselves would be experiencing the isolation of mortality alongside the cat. As an Editor, I wanted this poem in the issue because it is vulnerable, engaging, unique, critical, & the kind of poem that inspires me to poem more. One that makes us feel alive in our loneliness. One that considers pain as a necessity, and gives permission to both feel and examine it. & what a beautiful way to do it, through letters from Schrödinger to Einstein. Two brilliant minds bouncing off each other, desperate for connection. i think you are in love with possibility, / the chance of being blown to bits. / stop writing me. study it.
I’ve been writing some strange ars poeticas recently, trying to speak to poetry through the lenses of weird things, like celebrities or news articles. This is the third poem in the series, grounded in the idea of distance and betweenness—this idea of simultaneity, being and not-being. I’ll admit that I’m not a scientist, I haven’t studied Schrödinger's cat in depth—and I’m not even sure I fully understand it—but it’s been on my mind lately as we deal with isolation in the pandemic. There’s a certain loneliness to the paradox, and there seemed to be a similar distance between Schrödinger and Einstein’s work.
Writing poetry has been one of the things that’s helped me cope with the pandemic, but this poem investigates that need and asks if poetry can bridge the gap from now to the uncertain future, from total separation to overwhelming touch.
Assistant Editor Sofia Fey on “schrödinger's poetica”:
When I first read the second line I am so lonely looking at atoms, I had to take a second away from the poem to spiral internally to the place that line had touched & to reexamine my relationship with the world. Through literal scientific examination, we are exposed to a side of Schrödinger I dare say most of us have not been exposed to: their loneliness, their humanity, and the weather in their heart. on my bad days, i exist / in double-states—awestruck / by my wreckage. I had never thought to consider more than the duality of the half-alive-half-dead cat of Schrödinger’s studies– to consider the ways Schrödinger themselves would be experiencing the isolation of mortality alongside the cat. As an Editor, I wanted this poem in the issue because it is vulnerable, engaging, unique, critical, & the kind of poem that inspires me to poem more. One that makes us feel alive in our loneliness. One that considers pain as a necessity, and gives permission to both feel and examine it. & what a beautiful way to do it, through letters from Schrödinger to Einstein. Two brilliant minds bouncing off each other, desperate for connection. i think you are in love with possibility, / the chance of being blown to bits. / stop writing me. study it.
