MATH & SCIENCE

MATH & SCIENCE

for Barry

I was thirty-five when Mom died

at sixty-six. Forty-one when Owen

died at forty-six. A tiny lull, then

(still) forty-one when Dad died

at seventy-six. Now I am sixty,

Barry, & you are gone

at sixty-nine. For nineteen years

it was just you & me. We talked

on the phone, let’s say, once a week.

Nine hundred & eighty-eight times.

Except that year when we didn’t talk.

Nine hundred & thirty-six times.

If we saw each other once a month,

except for that year after

we fought, that’s two hundred

& sixteen times we saw each other

when it was just us. The final wisp

of smoke from your last cigarette
may still be discernable among the clouds:

the precise composition of smoke 

really depends on the nature of the fuel,

the temperature of the flame,

& wherever the hell the wind is going

& whether it’s in a hurry. Math

& science are notable ways

to not think about things

that are not math & science.

Stuart Ross

6 June 2020