I. Every object in a state of uniform motion tends to remain in that state of motion unless an external force is applied to it.
Annabelle constructed her dreams in a globe,
glass surrounding the dream-world like a cell’s membrane.
What do you make of this world?
Do you think it’s truly impermeable? Do you think anything
is truly impermeable?
Annabelle constructed her dreams deliberately, precisely
following the rules of uniformity with each daily addition.
Inside the globular world were fairies, and ambitions, and
the perfectly quantified fruits of her mind. In this dream world,
nothing was left to interpretation.
Annabelle constructed her dreams with her own hands
for the fear that someone else’s would corrupt them.
Addition by addition, part by part, she assembled the pieces,
the starry ambitions, the broken thoughts, the half-hearted wishes.
Soon, she had something to put on display.
Annabelle constructed her dreams with the purpose of putting
them on display. Contained in the globe, they would never break;
she was sure of it. Once her hands had finished constructing,
she exposed her globular dream-world to the human world.
Only her hands, grasping from the outside,
could make the fragile world
and only her hands
could break the fragile world
Shattered, broken, permeable–
world of dreams.
II. The relationship between an object’s mass m, its acceleration a, and the applied force F is F = ma. Acceleration and force are vectors; in this law the direction of the force vector is the same as the direction of the acceleration vector.
How else would you put it?
The force vector and acceleration vector
progress in the same direction:
Annabelle grew sick and tired
of the word. Forward. As if direction
were something quantifiable;
as if forward were the only
means to success
What would happen
if in this law
the direction of the force vector and acceleration vector
moved in was backward?
Would anyone object? Who would
dare say it was not the direction
of a world moving at the speed of light (299792458 m/s)?
Who would object to the pausing of output,
to the ceasing of heartless production,
to the prevention of time’s relentless effects?
But time, according to the laws of motion, continues
to gain F as the mass of the world increases
and soon our hearts get a little heavier
and Annabelle’s thighs are creased with stretch marks,
and her skin fades into nothingness,
and her lips evaporate into thin air,
and her eyes metabolize into liquid
and she no longer knows how old she is, how old she was, how old she will be,
and time keeps on going,
keeps on accelerating, and a is the only variable we know.
III. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.
She is seventy-two,
lying breathlessly on the ground.
Tell me what you find.
Perhaps you find a broken globular dream-world, perhaps you find remnants of an accelerating life.
Rummage through her:
Veins, stories, cartridges
of dying ink.
Picture her birth:
Bright, calm, serene.
Picture her death:
Dark, quiet, passing.
Annabelle is being born,
fresh and new and alive,
and somewhere too
Annabelle is dying.