unstable poem

Ununoctium, “Periodic Table” poem by Chicago poet Janet Kuypers

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Ununoctium

Janet Kuypers

from the “ Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#118, Uuo)

I first only heard of you a decade ago.
You seemed so reactive, so unstable,
and yet I was so attracted to you.
I should have known better.

I should have known that
your radioactive personality would
cause your destruction, so I guess
I’m glad I’m not around to see it.

I have only seen you three or four times
since you started to self-destruct,
so from afar I can only guess
what you’re made of, or what you can do.

But still, I can’t get you out of my mind,
so I’m left here to guess about you,
based on what little I could ever infer
about you. This is all you leave me.

When I saw you before, you seemed
kind, and noble when you were with me…
But that was before I saw what you
were made of, how hard you could be.

So much emanated from you with me,
but you’ve systematically shattered
any preconceived notions of who you are,
that I don’t even know what to believe.

You’re that explosive, and I’ve been
unsuccessful in any attempts to synthesize
with you… It’s funny, you seem
like you want to be discovered,

but I can only predict, calculate, or
extrapolate what I think you can do.
If only you would let me crack your shell
so I could see what you’re made of…

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

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Promethium

Janet Kuypers

from the “Periodic Table of Poetry” series (#61, Pm)

The end of the world just passed.
Everyone thought that because the Mayans
ended the calendar at the twenty twelve
Winter Solstice, that meant the
World was ending right then and there.

We all waited with baited breath,
in confused anticipation, not knowing
if we should feel a reserved somber mourning,
a sick ignorant religious end-of-days excitement,
or if we should feel nothing at all.

#

Did you know that Prometheus
was the Titan in Greek mythology
who stole fire from Mount Olympus
and brought it down to humans?
Maybe that fire would be the end of times…

Maybe Prometheus symbolizes
both the daring and the possible misuse
of mankind’s intellect. Maybe the Mayan calendar
wouldn’t do us in, but our own ignorance
and abusive ways would.

Maybe that end-of-the-world feeling we got
is from the rare decay of others,
that only produces the very unstable you.
But the thing is, despite your issues,
despite all of the ways of you may do us in,

from radioactivity to your emitting of x-rays,
we’ve learned that with just a little protection
we’re safe through the next calendar cycle.
Now we’re better prepared, and you’ll be the one
wondering about the end of times.

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.