Alicia Hoffman

A l i c i a   H o f f m a n

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Setting

The shoe on the line of electric wire finally fell

from its tangle-laced perch. The street was deserted.

The sky signaled snow. How did it get there?

Who hurls an orbital mass into the bleakness of space?

There is story here—setting—time and place.

But it’s a weak force, and the heavier particles

understand to break free of that which binds them.

They fall into themselves until there is nothing left.

Dark matter neither emits nor scatters light. This is fact:

everything seems trite and inconsequential.

These are not commandments: We have to believe

we are worth something. We have to believe we will last.