Pact Poem by Dawn Wood

All I need to get us off the ground
is one example of the theory that you hold.

Stick with me and I will show you how
to spin a barley sugar twist, translucent truth.

Once I, too, almost got to cry Eureka!
But ignore my reminiscence ‘Brain as Diva' -

you, now, on earth, may be the last one left
who I might help articulate, forge, set

a Theory of Everything. Oh, the proof
is never scientific, that poor crutch.

When they ask how we met, say a party,
if you like, or a dune piled up with dinky cars,

the way lovers lock and leave padlocks
on bridges. All abandoned egos, don't you think?

You believe in the convergence of routes?
Then let me add: your rule indeed holds fast

enough to apply to the silence, the absence,
the non-encounter, the frozen, the masked.

Remember, when I drew you close,
you couldn't look? And that my beauty was like yours?

Who could bear to be the void's plaything?
All is one, and one is one, a sounder version.