Serial Poems -- Erin Heath

Dearest Mousetrap Inventor,

their coats are still white, buried beneath theories

Look; produce; compare among the scientists
before oceans before bones,
it turned out a glitch produced a gene
for reasons, not mutation.
An experiment, a mixture of circumstance builds
a complex mousetrap.
Such a system falls with evolution’s
modern jawless equivalents
of incremental changes: 9.82 meters per second per second







The tracks of scientists scratch the kin

of a bitten skeleton. The teeth remain closed,
half-blown, scattered glass on glass table.
A direct afarensis stature, the frame sized unlike

a modern two scientists, unclear, a key of
a key of evidence happened before.
uncover
the States’
wobbly foundation







Dear Fahrenheit,

The object, unnamed trumps its discovery, tagged with
only 1.5 pixels. The telescope measures the ground.
Observations of a moon circling, enabling the release

Science operates a new report, shuffling thin white rectangles.
They spin out until they look like stars whose light takes years.
A percent of light, analysis, percent of
planetary shock—

Shooting geysers transform to ice crystals, a sheen
of freshly fallen snow. Nine billion miles
liquid water

shooting geysers minus 400 degrees

an eccentric atmosphere sweating organisms:
astronomer should be regarded as
two distant objects







Outer

Crashing crafts, help scientists.
Water might lurk deep in dark craters. Help future human
early lunar hydrogen
bound for the south pole,
identified identified identified
help astronauts off-land, the first to strike.
A craft will fly, launch Earth before slamming






Dear Mathematics,

Dr.,
the date
ancient keys and locks
Dr.
find any piece
an elegant,
of course
formulate
Dr.
be considerate,
three pieces
what, Dr.?
even if this calculates
it doesn’t show much






Dear Scientist,

A plume of debris rising 30 miles before
hitting the moon. Looking 90 degrees against the darkness,
high high increase of the orbit,
aim the telescope, smash into distant bodies,
A heavy copper comet ejected from a stone






Dear Force,

Earth’s magnetic storms send large flares.
Their intricacies introduce a phenomenon called
atoms,
stripped of ultraviolet force,
these temperatures are high enough to
x-ray the loops
beyond a fuzzy dawn.
The first sign the first high x-ray
the loop the pointed the rounded
then a wave






Crossing

A pocket would be expected to glow
at high velocities, causing ions
to suddenly bash near the
edge of the loop.
The lack of such electric lines
lines
relatively converge.
The strong halt
against a mattress, a motion charged,
a big trap






Burn

In a field, a lightbulb dissipating
over the years, a flux,
such fields, parallel to the sun,
a flat sheet
working over time as a result of
the current giving rise,
the weak x-rays
a series, a sequence,
the mysterious source reaching its peak
within two minutes—such fields




Erin Heath is a Junior writing major
cityscorp@hotmail.com