Poetry of Issue #8        Page 11

Feynman Writes a Letter to His Wife

Arline’s dead. TB. There seems no
getting around it. The months drift by.
After a few dates with others,
his hopes dwindle.

But he’s a physicist. Perhaps death’s
an illusion, the past, present, and
future a spectrum of possibilities.
She might be struggling
to learn Italian in another universe.

He thinks it probably makes no sense
to write to her, benchmark
of all his adventures,
besides, he has no address. He writes
to her: You, dead, are so much better
than anyone else alive.

  Susana H. Case__