Why I Don’t Date Engineers by Marissa Hewatt Stephens

(1st place poetry winner)

Sir Isaac Newton sat under an apple tree

and found refuge from me and my fury

at his economical ordering of a whiskey sour

no ice

and pondered hackneyed:

the word he’s used to describe I love you,

which one shouldn’t say too much.

I’d wanted to hear them.

I wanted to hear those hackneyed words

every goddamn day

while he played a banjo outside my window

preferably in the rain,

and I wanted them carved in a tree trunk,

in every tree trunk in the fucking forest

while he skipped about like Orlando in Arden

at the mere thought of it,

and he did not know why,

when the apple knocked him on the head,

he felt his eyes well

the moment he knew

we fall because our mass and the earth’s mass

are inversely proportional

to the square of the distance between us.

-Originally published in The Elixir’s 2014-15 edition

-Photo credit to Backyard Fruit

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