sun poem

Titanium, “Periodic Table of Poetry” poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

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Titanium

Janet Kuypers

from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#22, Ti)
(based on the poem “The Way You Tease Me”)
10/1/13

What I think I like the most about you
is the way you always leave me wanting more.
The longer I’m out in the sun, the more red
my nose and cheeks get, and the more I want
to slather you all over me to protect me.

What I think I like the most about you is how
whenever I see you around me, you consume me
like a wave of heat on a summer afternoon.
Seeing your metal along my flesh teases me
until sweat dances down my hairline and tickles my neck.

What I think I like the most about you
is when you say that absence makes the heart grow fonder,
because you’re like the fireworks I only see
on special occasions, and with your absence
I want you more, so you couldn’t be more right.

What I think I like the most about you
are the things that make me think I have to fight for you,
are the things that make you cost just too much.
It’s true, the market determines your worth to the world,
even if you’re always priceless to me.

What I think I like the most about you
is the fact that you can lead the way to help me
fly high into the sky, so I could see any corner
of the Earth, or even see the Universe beyond
our narrow global vision. You do that for me.

What I think I like the most about you
is the fact that you seem so common in the world,
but you manage to hide yourself in just the right way.
But still, you’re everywhere from dental implants to cell phones,
to engagement rings to jet engines to space ships…

What I think I like the most about you
is the wondering about you, is the yearning for you.
That’s what I like. This high-charged guessing game.
You make me work so hard just to find you. You leave me
to think about the possibilities. And that’s what I like.

Scandium, poem by Janet Kuypers

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Scandium

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series — #021, Sc

You have been so rare to me.
I’ve wanted to know you,
I’ve wanted to see you,
but you’re more common in the sun
than you are right here,
and the only way you’re made
is in the explosion of supernovae.

The scant amounts of you
the entire world knew
were once used in Russia,
prepping for cold war battle.

And you may be strong,
you may give us strength,
but your more violent strengths
come from your creation,
in a burst of radiation
that outshines the galaxy.

I know you’re more common in our sun,
but the energy in a supernova’s explosion
equals all of the energy our sun ever releases.

That’s where you come from.
And that’s why I’m drawn to you.
That’s why I want to know you.
Besides, even though we beat the USSR,
we’ll hedge our bets
to understand you
for any strengths we can get.

Copernicium poem by Janet Kuypers

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Copernicium

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#112, Cn)

It was my love of you
and what you believed in
that made me try to get you.

With your Renaissance ways,
you taught me that I’m not
the center of the Universe,

but I’ve learned since then
to go beyond the sun, because
there is too much out there

to see.

As a scientist, I know you
changed our views of the world.
So science must create you, again.

I know that mathematics
can explain the Universe,
but you were more than a

mathematician, you were
a physician, a translator,
an economist, an astronomer,

an artist.

I know you were a founder
in your time, and the half-life
of what we create may be small…

but I would have to throw
any metal I could into any
isotope I could, like zinc to lead,

just to see if you would
come out for us again. Let us
find you, let us experiment

with you.

Let us accelerate these processes,
cause just the right reactions
to synthesize you and your genius.

I don’t care how we get you,
whether what we do is cold or hot,
when we fuse to create you,

and through all of our work
you may only come to us
after the decay of others

around you.

We’ve learned that only now,
now that we have you, we can
try to work with any part of you,

no matter how unstable
you say you now are. I don’t care.
You’re the last member

transitioning in this series — so now
I can only reflect on your relativity
to planets, like Mercury, as well as

your nobility.

I miss what you’ve done
for how we think in this world.
I miss clear scientific minds.

I only hope that what we’ve done
in your honor does you justice.
Even though we’ve only created you,

I want you to remember
that it is because we wanted
to learn, too, and we wanted you

to guide the way.