Your desktop background nods to computer algorithms
Bookshelves filled with organic chemistry and complex physics.
A tree grows in your room, in honor of your alma mater
And when you play music, you dissect wavelengths, patterns,
deciphering art into a scientific formula, to woo.
The stars are only stars to me, but to you they are
gaseous entities, the beauty of a nonexistent god.
You are not an angel, yet your golden hair forms a halo
like the Vitruvian man, a perfect image of evolution
in the man who worships Hawking and blesses science.
When you tell me about string theory and distant galaxies
I am too awed, too ignorant to speak your language.
The numbers and letters get jumbled in my head, but you tell me
that’s okay. Somehow I understand the simple symbols that matter –
the chemical reactions when you tell me, “you’re a genius”
the compounds of how your skin feels against mine.
In the end you created a formula simple enough to understand—
The coded brilliance of your love is the equation of us together.
This poem is included in The Sophomore Year Experience poetry compilation.